Optimum Quod Primum
by Normione
Summary: Life was perfect for Charlie Noland. She's a Starfleet Cadet, her captain is alive, and she's about to embark on the next adventure. That is until she and the crew are sent somewhere she never thought she'd be again. Now she has to figure out who it is that threatens everything she loves while she discovers something that could tear her and Jim apart. 3rd in the Cor Unum Series
1. Chapter One: City of Angels

**I'M BACK! Ish...**

 **Hello my lovely lovely readers! It's been too long! So much has happened since I last saw you all! So let me explain! There's too much. Let me sum up. Got married, moved to Florida, worked for the mouse, suffered through 2 hurricanes (I don't recommend), hated it, three years later moved to Colorado, worked for the Boy Scouts of America that sucked 80% of my time away, and now I finally have a new job where I can devote time to this story! Currently it's about 25% completed, but I am diligently working on it. I have it outlined, it's just sitting down and getting from A to B.**

 **That's why this is just a teaser for the moment. Typically I don't post until the story is 75- 80% done and then post weekly to keep you guys engaged and myself to deadline. But it's been over four years since my last story and that's not fair to you.**

 **So here I present the third in the ongoing story of Charlotte Noland! I do hope you enjoy!**

 _ **Disclaimer: Per general rules, I own nothing of Star Trek whether that be plot similarities, characters, timeline, setting, etc. I do however own Charlie, original plots, and any other non-trek entities you may come across. Please do not use without permission.**_

So Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, or whatever you chose to believe in. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter One: City of Angels**

The sun was hot. The reflections off the crystalline structures magnified the rays like a lens over an ant. Charlotte Noland, a cadet at Starfleet Academy in San Francisco tried not to fidget in her seat as fighter planes flew overhead, a bead of sweat leisurely tickled down her back. She was in her regulatory dress blues for the occasion; a grey skirt and jacket combo that some genius decided had to be wool while a grey peaked cap kept the sun out of her dark eyes.

Her excitement knew no bounds. She had just completed her first year at the Academy, and although the other cadets were looking forward to a few weeks off in celebration, Charlie already had her first assignment. An assignment she couldn't believe had been granted to her, but one she worked the hardest for. Once the population of cadets heard the news, she knew there would be those who would congratulate her; happy to see she reached such a lofty goal. And there would be those on the opposite spectrum who were already jealous of her privileged state.

"There will always be those who mean to do us harm. To stop them, we risk awakening the same evil within ourselves."

Though the discomfort was there, sitting in her itchy stockings ( _why in two hundred years they couldn't come up with a better material?_ ) and her shoes weren't the most comfortable pair she'd worn, nothing could stop the beaming smile that grew across her face as she sat front and center of the gathered assembly. Her eyes flickered around to the surrounding crew from the _USS_ _Enterprise_ , a Federation starship that meant as much to her as the man who stood at the podium with his hands clasped in front and his hat on the clear lectern. This crew, and the captain who stood before them, was a family Charlie had only dreamed about. And one she almost lost.

"Our first instinct is to seek revenge when those we love are taken from us, but that's not who we are."

Two years. Had it only been two years? It seemed like yesterday she transported to a time so very different from her own. While she may have been born in the 20th century, she was now living over two hundred and fifty years in the future, and already the adventures she experienced went far beyond any she could have dreamed. Or the nightmares that still came when her guard was down. First, she had been kidnapped, forced to defend herself against a race larger, stronger, and more powerful than she could ever hope to be. Her survival only happened because of the very crew surrounding her. But she owed her life to the man standing in front.

As if that weren't enough, the head Admiral of Starfleet later demanded she be placed under their custody due to the sensitive nature of her arrival. The argument was to decide where her loyalties lied, but the truth was he wanted the power of the blood that coursed through her veins. Admiral Marcus believed her an augment, a superior being with the potential as a formidable weapon against an imagined foe. She was thought of only as a tool, like another who came from her time, but not her world. An enemy she never dreamed of meeting, and never envisioned the connection they'd share. But that connection, and that meeting set up a chain of events that razed her world to the ground.

She frowned, her eyes glassy as her attention turned from the commanding presence in front of her to the memories eleven months prior. The reflections of lifeless eyes, of dejected and unjustifiable pain, of a grief so deep her soul still held the scars from the torture. There was a solemn presence in those around her as many remembered the trials. But none more so than Charlie and the man who stood before her now, his blue eyes sharp as he scanned across those in front of him. He caught Charlie's dark gaze and held it longer than those around her, a warm and unspoken thought passing between the pair as their memories joined in unison.

Distantly, Charlie heard the grunt of exertion along with the mumble of a curse. She could still smell the dull air, a mix of recycled oxygen and sweat, and hear the echoes of struggle from the long road of rehabilitation. But mostly she remembered the stubbornness and the love, and how there couldn't be one without the other.

" _Take it easy there, Killer or you're going to undo the last three weeks of progress. McCoy said take it slow."_

 _Captain James T. Kirk gritted his teeth and rolled his blue eyes as he snapped his arms out to grab the parallel railings, leaning his weight onto his hands. He tried not to glare at the woman hovering next to his side, his focus instead on each agonizing step along twelve feet of mat in the therapy center, but the weakness in his limbs and the inactivity from his grounding at the hospital by Starfleet had his irritation spiking._

" _I'm fine," he snapped as he stumbled forward, his intent to prove he could walk five steps unassisted but ended up catching himself as he collapsed after two._

 _Charlie, having just started her first semester at Starfleet Academy raised a dark brow as she crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips._

" _Hmm, I can see that," she remarked dryly, making no move to assist the captain._

" _Don't you have a class or something to get to?" Jim barked, pulling himself upright again and restarting the trek._

" _Nope," she said with a pop, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Captain Fernell postponed our tactical drills until next week so you have me all day."_

" _Wonderful." Jim reached the end of the walk and gently twisted his arms to turn himself around to restart._

" _Don't sound so excited," she frowned._

 _Jim sighed, sweat dripping from his brow causing his cropped hair to stick to his head. "It's not that I'm not glad you're here," he struggled while his arms and legs shook, adding more to his ill humor. "This just sucks on the best days. I don't need you hovering."_

 _Her frown deepened. "I'm not hovering. I'm just making sure you don't land flat on your face. Besides, I have higher orders."_

 _Jim snorted, feeling a small sense of accomplishment when he was able to make it to the end of the railings. His quick victory turned to one of disgust when he remembered all he had been able to do before and he plopped down with a dejected grunt of annoyance._

" _Jim—"_

" _Charlie, don't," he barked, bracing a hand up as she reached down to help him. "Just don't."_

 _She took a surprised step back before her irritation overcame her shock. "I get it. You're frustrated. I understand. But you died. Remember that?" she glared, Jim slanting a glance from the corner of his eye as he took a swig from a water bottle. "Your time had officially been called, and yet here you are_ _ **walking**_ _, practically unassisted a month and a half later. Give yourself and those around you a break, okay? Most of us are just trying to help."_

 _Jim puffed up his chest, ready to argue back when the air left his lungs in a great whoosh. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry. I haven't been in the best moods lately." Charlie gave Jim a look somewhere between 'duh' and 'no shit.'_

" _This weakness is annoying," he continued, his hand landing on Charlie's knee as she sat cross-legged next to him. "My mind is clear, but my body won't listen. I tell my legs to move but they just sit there."_

" _I understand," she nodded, her smaller hand wrapping around his larger one. "You were mostly dead for a long time and although Miracle Max gave you that chocolate pill to bring you back, you're not going to be able to jump up and do a jig instantly."_

 _Jim blinked at her. "Where do you get these references from?"_

 _Charlie chuckled and rolled her eyes as she laid her head on Jim's shoulder, his own following as their fingers intertwined. "You love my nonsensical references. But if it wasn't for Uhura, and Spock, and McCoy—"_

" _Don't forget a certain obstinate military brat," Jim added with a nudge._

" _Please, I was a wreck," she brushed off. "And besides, the only reason I went down to that garbage ship was so I could get a few of my own punches in. Spock couldn't have all the fun." They both grimaced, Charlie barely able to suppress a shudder from the memory of long fingers around her neck and the blackness of coming death. Gently, she shook the thoughts away, storing them for a later focus. "What I'm saying is patience, Jim. And this is coming from me. Patience, and I guarantee you, you'll be beating my eight-minute mile in no time."_

" _Eight minutes?" Jim feigned disbelief. "That's it? That's all you can do?"_

 _Charlie lifted her head, her eyes narrowed in agitation. "Oh shut up. This is coming from the girl who hates running. I don't run. I'm like a dwarf, my legs are too short. But I am dangerous over short distances," she added with a smile, sitting up straighter._

 _Again, Jim rolled his eyes heavenward. "Apparently not that dangerous if you're only doing an eight-minute mile."_

Asmile passed between Jim Kirk at the podium and Charlie Noland in the crowd as their attentions came back to the present. There was so much shared between the two. There was pain and joy. Fear and redemption. All of it cumulating in a bond that intertwined around the pair. The battles they'd faced, and the trials that were still coming only strengthened the admiration they had for each other. Life in Starfleet would never be easy. They both knew that. As Bone's had said, space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence. But there was life, and knowledge, and wisdom for the taking, should anyone be brave enough to grab it.

And like any relationship, there were fights. They were two individuals with different personalities and opinions, but their foundation came from the support they gave each other. They had gone to hell and come back, scarred but alive, and each passing day was a blessing they cherished.

Charlie smirked, one particular memory surfacing.

 _"I'm going to fail."_

 _"You're not going to fail."_

 _"Yes I am."_

 _"No, you're not."_

 _"How do you know?"_

 _"I'm the captain. It's my job."_

 _"That's not an answer. And technically I'm the captain."_

 _"It's an answer, just not the one you want. Captain."_

 _"Why did they elect me captain? I can't do this."_

 _"Charlie," Jim sighed, stopping the pair on the sidewalk of campus and reaching up to grip her shoulders. "They elected you because they see what I see. What Pike saw. You've already taken on a Klingon warbird. You've beaten Khan at his own game. You've already done more for security than most first year officers. Your ATT security final will be a breeze."_

 _Charlie drew her lip between her teeth, Kirk's eye unconsciously drawn downward. After a minute, she gave one sharp dip of her chin._

" _Okay." She said, her voice cracking. "Okay," she tried again more firmly. "I can do this. I have done this. I will do this."_

 _Jim smirked, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Go get '_ _em_ _tiger. Just remember if you run into a problem, ask yourself what would I do?"_

 _Charlie couldn't stop the laugh that erupted, her hand covering her mouth to contain the mirth that still shown through her eyes._

 _Jim had the decency to look hurt. "What?"_

" _Nothing. Sorry, it's nothing, I'm sorry I laughed," she said in-between giggles. "I have to go or I'll be late." She stood on her tiptoes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. "I'll call you after I'm done."_

 _With that, she ran off, her bag thrown over her shoulder as her boots slapped on the sidewalk. Jim couldn't stop staring after her, her dark hair in a braid down her back and her dark jumpsuit more form fitting that he would have liked, especially as every male seemed to turn his head as she passed._

 _He breathed out a_ _sigh_ _, glancing upwards to the grey colored sky. He had a few meetings to go to, the refurbishment of the Enterprise only halfway done. He would work into the night, and if she wasn't back by midnight, he'd probably sleep in the flex office granted to him while his ship was in space dock._

 _The_ _Advanced_ _Tactical Training examinations could take well over twelve hours, especially the security final where the cadets are required to hold the bridge of a decommissioned ship for two hours. If the other team took over the bridge and pushed a button that activated their team color, the clock would restart and another two hours would have to pass._

 _Charlie was excited. She knew she had the best team at the command school; she_ _handpicked_ _them herself. The roaster included an Andorian with impressive strategic skills that almost rivaled her own, an Orion woman who could hack a computer faster than Charlie had ever seen, a Caitian who like the cat she mirrored could stalk and attack without so much as a sound, and finally another human, a giant man from the African continent who could crush a skull with one hand. And her team did not disappoint. For the first time in Starfleet Academy history, Charlie's team ambushed, captured, and held the bridge of the USS Cairo in under six hours, beating the record by twelve minutes._

 _Her strategy was simple. They had set up a perimeter in the air ducts surrounding the bridge, the lack of gravity allowing her team to wait silently for the rival team to make an appearance. With C'Tarr the Caitian, as bait, Charlie easily anticipated the rival captain's use of his whole team as a giant battering ram than to rely on their individual abilities. The minute they entered as a unit, Charlie struck. Nalisash, the Orion girl killed the power except for the communication station that began blasting 20_ _th_ _century rock music while C'Tarr pounced, knocking two of Alpha's members out. At the same time, both Ronian the Andorian and Amare the other human stunned the last two members, leaving the captain for Charlie. She floated out of the duct, her target the Arcturian captain Timnal. He hailed from a_ _militaristic_ _society, and that alone gave Charlie all the information she needed. The minute Ronian and Amare began firing, Timnal's attention would be drawn. She let loose two volleys of fire and that as they said was checkmate._

 _Back on solid ground, Charlie beamed, sweaty and exhausted as she disembarked the shuttle into the afternoon daylight. She turned her face up toward the sun, closing her eyes as she relished the feeling of victory. Her team had done well on the First Contact mission, between her knowledge of the Picard Enterprise and her own experiences coming to this universe, and she knew that the Science one would be a piece of cake from the background of three of her teammates. The only concern she had was the Security final, and now she stood on a mountain of triumph thanks to her team and her ingenuity._

" _So how'd it go?" Charlie caught a smiling voice ask from behind her. "Did you take my advice?"_

 _She hadn't even realized she had left the_ _hangar_ _bay and entered the academy population. Spinning, Charlie smirked and crossed her arms as she eyed the Starfleet captain casually leaning against the wall, his foot propped up as he mirrored her pose. While her crew saluted as they passed, Charlie just cocked a hip._

" _You mean that piece about doing what you would have done?"_

 _Jim matched her smirk. "Yeah."_

" _No."_

 _She spun on her heel with a grin and headed towards the command building for a debriefing, her crew ahead of her attempting to suppress their chuckles. Steps pounded behind her, her grin widening._

" _No?" Jim asked perplexed. "What do you mean no? Did you lose? I got the alert you were coming back sooner than I thought."_

" _Oh no, we kicked ass. We beat the Starfleet record." He was at her side now, trying to keep up with her hurried steps._

" _You . . . wait . . . you what?"_

" _We beat the record. We beat the record, Jim!" Charlie whooped, throwing her fist in the air. Her crew turned and gave the same whoop, a chant they came up with on the shuttle ride up to break the tension._

" _So if you won, didn't you use any of my tactics?"_

 _Charlie had to stop then, grinning. "Jim. I did the opposite of what you have done. You were skunked when you did your final! Your whole team got captured."_

 _Jim gaped at her. "How'd you know that?"_

 _Charlie's grin turned into a Cheshire cat. With a shrug she tossed, "Uhura told me." And then ran to catch up with her crew._

Charlie had to stop the laugh that threatened to spew, remembering Jim's thunderous look at the absent communications officer. Because of the results of the Security final, the First Contact, and later the Science mission that they also passed, although with a thinner margin than the other two, Admiral Barnett pulled Charlie into his office two weeks before the end of the semester. While rumors had spread that Jim had given her a cheat (proven false), Charlie still felt the sweat build on her palms that day. Instead of reprimanding her like she had expected, Charlie was given a new course.

She was already considered a third year at the Academy. Between her classes in the city and her experiences on the _Enterprise_ , she had jumped the ranks more as a transfer than a newly enlisted. That's why, as Admiral Barnett explained, she was chosen as a beta tester for a new program the Academy considered implementing. Instead of her final year to be a traditional course of classes within the confines of the Academy, she would spend it more like an internship aboard a starship to gain practical applications in the field. Due to the high demand of battle-ready cadets, seen previously in the last few years, the governing board felt it pertinent cadets get a stronger level of training.

"We are here today to rechristen the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ , and to honor those who lost their lives nearly one year ago."

It had already been a year since everything erupted around her, and now as Charlie sat at the ceremony for the starship that was to be her new home for the next year, she could not believe all she'd accomplished. And all that still waited.

"When Christopher Pike first gave me his ship, he had me recite the Captain's Oath, words I didn't appreciate at the time. Now I see them as a call for us to remember who we once were, and who we must be again." Jim's attention caught Charlie's one last time as everyone rose, the Federation flag folded and presented to a mother and child in the front row.

"And those words?"

As one unit, everyone spoke, "Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Her five-year mission, to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before."

"Thank you."

The applause followed Jim as he picked up his hat and jogged down the steps next to the stage. As another admiral moved to dismiss the assembly, Jim slid in next to Charlie, a deep sigh erupting from his chest. With a smile, she rose on her toes and laid a soft kiss on his cheek, her eyes glowing with pride and admiration.

"Brilliant speech, Captain," she beamed.

"Well I had a great editor," Jim grinned and leaned down to capture her lips in a chaste kiss as the crew began disbanding for the following reception.

Charlie broke the caress with a larger smile, light shining through her amber eyes as she lovingly gazed at the man in front of her. "But it was all in the delivery. Pike would've been proud."

"I agree with the cadet, Captain," Spock said as he and Uhura joined the pair. "Your speech was quite admirable. It gave adequate justice to the lost comrades—"

"He means good job," Uhura translated as Charlie and Jim chuckled at Spock's perplexed expression.

"Is that not what I said?"

"In so many words, Commander," Charlie laughed.

"Thanks, Spock," Jim added, clasping his first officer on the shoulder. "Means a lot. Now, Charlie and I have to do the rounds so we can get out of here." With a grimace, Jim tugged at his collar, the itchy material leaving a pink rash on his neck.

"I swear, when I become Fleet Admiral, I'm changing the dress uniforms," Charlie said as they moved off. "Why in God's name are they still wool?"

"Fleet Admiral, huh?" Jim smirked.

With a shrug, Charlie curved a glance from the corner of her eye. "A girl can dream, right?"

Mirth spread across Jim's expression like a butterfly opening its wings. "You never dream small, do you?"

"With you by my side, how could I?"

Jim's eye crinkled with love, pulling Charlie closer and laying a far more intimate kiss against her soft lips. "I love you," he whispered.

With a smirk, Charlie responded, "I know."

Jim laughed, surprised by her response. Taking her hand, he led them toward the awning of a nearby building, the drinks and hors d'oeuvres beginning to be distributed. Charlie spotted Scotty ahead of them and waved at the man to gain his attention just as a British voice called behind her.

"Captain Kirk?"

Both Charlie and Jim spun around as a dark-skinned woman and her daughter hesitantly stepped forward. The woman was beautiful with her dark almond eyes and her black hair half pulled back. Her dark suit was well tailored, and Charlie noticed the lack of jewelry except for one gold band on her left hand.

Her daughter was equally stunning. No more than ten, she was a spitting image of her mother, but her eyes were not that of a child. They held knowledge, a pain that Charlie knew all too well. It was a pain that she saw they both shared and when their visions locked, the girl knew it too.

The mother unconsciously stroked the back of her daughter's head, her gaze locked with Kirk's as emotions churned in the dark depths of her visage. "Thank you for your words," she breathed, the tone of sadness in equal footing with the cadence of her voice. She swallowed, her lean neck flexing as the woman attempted to keep whatever demons plagued her at bay.

"Of course," Jim soothed, his attention moving to the child as the mother placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders, as if she were terrified the child would be snatched away. With a smile, Jim held out his hand, the little girl's tiny fingers wrapping around his much larger appendage. "Hi."

She smiled, her eyes brightening. "Hi," she answered, gently shaking Jim's hand as something flashed between the two.

A wave of nausea came over Charlie, her world beginning to spin the minute Jim and girl locked hands. She knew the feeling. It was what she felt the first time she met Khan. Ice poured into her veins, but her cheeks heated uncomfortably hot. Her knees shook, and she reached a hand out to steady herself, catching Jim's arm as the blood drained from her head.

"Hey, whoa, Charlie, are you okay?" Jim asked, letting the girl go to steady her.

The minute they broke contact the sensations flowed away as if they were never there. "Yes," Charlie breathed, reaching up to wipe her clammy brow with a shaking hand. "Yes, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

"Do you need some water?" the woman asked concerned.

"No. Thank you, no I think I'm okay, I just—"

Charlie paused as she heard a high-pitched whistle screaming in the air, getting louder with each second. Without warning, the main stage blew thirty feet into the air in a giant explosion, debris and dirt flying all around. Several other smaller detonations followed, the whole courtyard surrounded to keep the fleeing members of the rechristening from escaping.

The mother screamed, throwing her body over her daughter's when the first bomb went off, sinking to the ground to try to protect her child. Charlie ducked as a large piece of concrete flew over where her head had been, Jim crouched next to her as he used his own body to shield the small family.

Charlie's ears were ringing, the concussion from the blast knocking her equilibrium off. She shook her head, trying to clear her deadened mind from the turmoil around her. Charlie's frantic eyes searched the chaos for their crew. There were members of the congregation on the ground, many not moving as their loved ones and friends hovered over them. Blood was beginning to mix in the dirt, the dark smell of copper, iron, and other metals the casualties bled out coating the air. As the smoke and dust spun, Charlie noticed Spock and Sulu had ducked behind a round table, both sporting small cuts, but nothing serious. Scotty and McCoy were on the opposite side; McCoy diligently working on the injured man at his feet while Scotty had his communicator out radioing for help. Chekov and Carol were the furthest away, pinned against the outermost columns near the majority of the fire. The only one missing was Uhura and with her heart in her throat, Charlie saw her friend's unmoving body in the middle of the courtyard.

Without a thought, Charlie ran into the middle of the fray, ignoring the choking dust and stinging shrapnel to reach her friend. Uhura coughed just as Charlie slid next to her. She was disoriented as she tried to stand, sporting a deep cut just above her right temple that bled into her eyes.

"Here, here I've got you!" Charlie yelled over the screaming and noise, throwing Uhura's arm over her shoulder.

The air stilled, the silence ringing when before there had been din. The wind blew the smoke from the fires, swirling in indistinguishable patterns against the backdrop of carnage. From the edges dark shadows appeared, figures covered in black cloaks with their hoods drawn that seemed to float across the concrete, straight at Jim and the little girl.

Several security members raised their phasers towards the beings, ready to unleash a volley against the terrorists. One hooded being's arm raised, a phaser like Charlie had never seen in his hand. As he pulled the trigger, Jim and the little girl began to convulse, their bodies writhing on the ground as if they were having a seizure. Uhura began to scream, her eyes scrunched in pain as she dropped to the ground, her long fingers fisting in her black hair. In fact, everyone was now on the ground, clutching at their heads in agony. Everyone but Charlie.

She could feel whatever it was that pulsed from the weapon. It was like a gentle shock that tingled along her skin but unable to penetrate. She glanced around in confusion, not understanding how she wasn't affected.

The hooded figures didn't appear to notice. Instead, they made directly to Jim and the girl, a couple firing at the security, hitting them in the chest with a blood splatter. If Charlie didn't know better, she'd think they had guns from her time instead of phasers. The mother was so deep in pain that she could barely stand, let alone fight off the men as they threw her off her unconscious child. Another tried to go to Jim who had gained enough control to try to crawl away. Kirk's hands were like claws, and his movements were jerky and uncontrolled, but still he forced his convulsing body to try to escape.

With a skid, a phaser hit Charlie's boot, her head snapping over to a grimacing Spock shuffling along the ground. McCoy, Scotty, and Sulu weren't far behind, their eyes pleading as they crawled. Charlie kneeled, her hand closing around the hard metal of the phaser's handle. All of her training, all the hours of practice she put in over the last few months coated her limbs like a familiar blanket, the muscle memory a welcomed grounding. She aimed and began firing, hitting several of the men in the back.

The others spun, their cloaks swirling around them and for a horrifying second, Charlie was reminded of the Nazgul from Lord of the Rings. Their faces covered by the hoods, their voices a weird mix of electronic scrambling as they pointed at her, communicating between them and forgetting about Jim.

Charlie drew a bead on the one with the child, her anger masking her fear. "How about you pick on someone your own size," she taunted.

Just as she fired, he dropped something on the concrete. A wall shot up between them, a swirling dark mass that deflected her bullet away. It dug into the ground, a twirling portal that sucked in everything around it. The man with the girl jumped in the vortex, the others disappearing as they were transported. The mother screamed, holding onto a pillar as her daughter disappeared, afraid to be sucked in herself.

Charlie felt the pull, the need to enter the mass although she did not know where it led. It was intoxicating, the power that portal held. She jumped. She didn't know what waited for her, but Charlie knew that little girl needed someone to save her. Down the swirling tunnel she went and then everything went black.

* * *

 **As I said, I don't know when the next post will be. I'm shooting for February/March BUT that all depends on my muse, and she's finicky.**

 **Please let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter Two: Northern Lights

**Apparently my muse likes you all. You're welcome**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Northern Lights**

It felt like a slide. She spun and twirled in a concentric circle to a central point. She knew the others were with her. She didn't know how. There wasn't light outside a random brilliant flash of blue or white in the inky blackness. There was no sound beyond the wind so deafening she couldn't hear her own scream when she fell away. She couldn't feel anyone outside her own skin. None of her physical senses alerted her to the crew that fell with her.

A word, a thought, a glimpse of some image as each conscious touched her own mind let her know who followed. She thought of home and all the emotions that came with as each consciousness brushed against her own. The last to touch her before they tumbled through the maelstrom was brighter than any of the others. It shone like Sirius in the winter's sky; a beacon of hope for the darkness that consumed them all. It was the fear for her shining from the deepest form of love, and Charlie knew Jim was with her.

She hit the cold ground with a soft thump. The thickness of long pine needles cushioned her landing; cold, wet snow seeping into her backside as she sat up. Bodies fell around her, each colliding with a soft groan or yelp of pain on the freezing ground. The swirling mass above spit out Sulu and then dissolved as if it never existed, leaving a deafening silence in the wake of the voluminous din moments before. The air was calm; barely a sound echoed outside of their own cloudy breaths. No birds called, or animals scurried. The air held a hushed silence, their abrupt presence scattering the fauna in the early dawn.

Charlie took stock of their location, her head on a swivel as she gazed at the lines of pine trees stretching out in all directions. The forest wasn't crowded; most bushes were tucked back, their thin twigs empty of leaves. The trees were tall with long branches stretching out overhead twenty to thirty feet. But while their height soared to the clouds, their trunks were not thick - maybe a foot around and straight as telephone poles. Snow dotted the landscape in dirty piles, half melted as small rivulets ran down the gentle slope. The sky was a soft grey as the smell of new snow hung in the chilled air, each minute dropping a few more degrees.

"Where are we?" Uhura was the first to speak, running her hands up and down her bare arms as Spock came to her side to embrace her shivering form. "Where's Chekov and Carol?"

"They were behind the stage," McCoy said, rising. "They didn't get sucked into that whirling tornado of horror."

"Eloquent, Bones," Jim derided dryly. "So it's only the seven of us here. Where ever here is."

"I'm trying to get a reading," Sulu answered, spinning in circles with the tricorder in his hand.

"Anybody know what the hell that was?" growled Bones, puffing hot air into cupped hands then tucking them under his arms, surveying the forest they now found themselves in.

"Besides a whirling tornado of horror?" Uhura smirked.

A choir of 'no's' and shaking heads greeted that question as the crew took stock of the situation. All except for Charlie who still sat on the damp earth, trying to wrap her head around a very familiar sensation.

"I think I do," she answered, rising to stand with Jim's help, his arms wrapping around her shaking shoulders. "That thing was exactly like the portal that brought me here. I'm sure of it."

The eerie song of a bird called, the only sound that echoed in the silent woods as the others incredulously blinked.

"How is that possible?" Jim asked first. "The last of the New Red matter sent Kate and Philippa back. There wasn't any left."

"So, when the hell are we?" McCoy barked. "On top of where."

"The tricorder indicates a settlement," Sulu answered snapping the machine closed. "That way about half a kilometer," He pointed down the slope, his feet stamping in the same direction. "It's better than freezing to death," he added with a shrug.

In silent agreement, the troop began the trek down the hill, the walk slushy and slippery as they slid and tripped down the ridge. The air was beginning to finally warm as the sun began to rise higher in the sky, but it still only registered just above zero degrees Celsius according to the tricorder. Just as they started up another rise, Charlie felt a sense of familiarity with the area. The placement of trees, the way that boulder to the east looked like an elephant, the way her feet seemed to follow the paths to a familiar stream.

The next rise, a glint in the trees caught Charlie's eye. It spun and swirled in the early morning wind, the sun's rays reflected off in all directions. Charlie squinted, breaking from the group as she gracelessly jogged over to the tree the talisman was attached to. Surprised by her sudden movement, Jim called after her as Uhura followed steps behind, but Charlie never answered. Her attention was riveted on the piece, the familiarity a smoothly balm on her soul that she didn't know she needed.

Charlie reached up to settle the spinning metal, the horse shaped pendant stilling in her hand. She knew that pendant, had nailed it to the tree herself. Next to the horse four letters were carved into the wood - WF and CN. They were weathered, but not in the way two hundred years' worth of rain, snow, and sun would. Their slightly rounded edges and lightened interior had a freshness about them. Maybe a decade's worth of erosion had corroded the etchings.

"No fucking way," she breathed, just as the others ran up behind her.

"What is it? What's that?" Jim asked, breathless as he pointed to the carvings, Uhura running her hand over the letters as if they were a linguistic puzzle only she could figure out.

Charlie sighed as she realized the predicament they now found themselves in, her gaze flickering between the tree and her friends.

"Well, the first letters- WF - stand for Will Field. And the other -CN - are my initials. I helped to carve these."

"Who the hell is Will Field?" Jim growled.

"So, you've been here before, Spitfire?" McCoy asked at the same time, shooting a glare at the jealous captain.

"Yeah, I'd say," Charlie answered, pointedly ignoring Jim's question. "I. . . think we're on my parent's land. Or what was theirs." She gestured behind them, the newly formed wind whipping the hair that had come loose from her bun across her eyes. "The settlement Sulu mentioned must be the main house. Over that next ridge."

"But there's no guarantee this is your time," Uhura added reluctantly, her thin arms wrapped tightly around her frame, her teeth chattering.

"You're right," Charlie spun around until she saw what she was looking for. "But there's one way to find out."

She jogged along the path to where an old rope was swinging in the breeze, hanging down from the branches above. She pulled on it a couple times, and then finding it secure, Charlie hauled herself up the rope and into the structure hidden in the branches of a large ponderosa pine tree. As if walking into a dream, Charlie found herself in her childhood fort, built by her grandfather for herself and her sister and brother. It was their hideout, their secret lair where the expectations of their parents could be escaped for a few hours. Where they battled magical foes, and casted their wishes into the night. Their treasures were still on the shelves; old books, pieces of colored glass, other trinkets that a child would find fascination in. Weathered blankets were stacked in the corner, moldy and covered with leaves, but still held the promise of warmth.

Charlie surveyed the now decrepit treehouse with its sagging roof and leaf covered floor. Although it was dirty and had not been used for at least a half a decade, the memories she spent there, the hopes and dreams that she fed into the universe where as fresh as if they happened yesterday. Charlie hesitantly moved across the floor, testing the obvious weak spots while bent over by the short roof. Grabbing the old WWII binoculars off the shelf, Charlie crawled over to the far window to survey the area and see if her suspicion was correct.

With a grunt from behind, she turned to see Jim hauling himself through the small door in the corner, wiggling his way through the child sized opening while his fingers turned white gripping the fraying rope that miraculously held his weight. Like a fish caught, he flopped onto the floor panting, a bead of sweat on his brow.

"You made that look way easier than it was," he rasped as Charlie grinned.

"Muscle memory is an amazing thing," she laughed. "Here," she added, tossing him the blankets hiding in her corner. "They're a bit smelly and have been tucked away for a while, but they're warm. Drop them down to Uhura and the others. It's freezing out here."

With a call below, Kirk let the fabric fall to the grateful group, a shout of thanks sent up. Hunched over, Jim shuffled his way over to where Charlie sat, her gaze focused out the window to the sight that awaited her.

"Was this yours as a kid?"

There was only a hint of awe in his tone, his gaze roaming over the small room filled with memories he never thought he'd get to experience. Her past was so far gone, never to be reached or touched, that Jim didn't know what to think now that he was in the place her child-self played.

Charlie dropped the binoculars in her lap with a sigh, finding the large house ahead peaking between branches with smoke drifting lazily from the chimney. It didn't look any different from the last time she crossed its threshold. She could see her grandfather's '57 Ford truck next to the main barn as well as the rusted old farm tools her father refused to part with. The house was the same tan with blue trim her mother picked before graduation to "liven things up".

As all these familiar scenes swirled in front of her, her dark eyes sought out Jim's blue, emotion swirling in their depths as Charlie realized for the first time in three years she might actually be going home.

Suddenly, she couldn't speak, her voice locking up, so she just nodded once as a sob found its way to the surface like a hiccup. Home. She was going home. She didn't click her heels together three times, or wish upon a star, but somehow that tornado still found her.

Her hand came up to brush the single tear from her cheek, her smile growing. "Jim. This is my treehouse. This is my land. I'm… I'm home." She giggled then, throwing her arms around his neck, sending him off balance and to the floor. They laughed together, his arms wrapping around her frame. "I'm back," she whispered, her face buried in his chest as a thousand thoughts warped across her mind.

"Does that mean I'm about to meet your parents?" He meant it as a joke, but she stiffened. With a shove, Charlie snapped up.

"Shit, my parents! What-What are they going to think? What are they going to say? What if—"

Her heart started thumping in panic. She had left for England three years before, and then disappeared eight months later. Had there been a search? Had they been frantic to find her? How was she going to explain that she warped two hundred and fifty years into the future and was now back with no explanation?

"I've been gone for three years. Maybe more , I don't know what year it is. What if they forgot about me?"

"They didn't forget you," Jim reasoned, sitting up slower and rubbing the spot on his chest she used as a launching pad. "We'll figure something out, something to tell them. But they're going to be happy you're alive. Think Charlie, they probably think you're dead."

He didn't want to point it out, but it had to be said. He watched as her eyes dropped, pulling in her full bottom lip to worry it. With the brush of his finger he tilted her chin up and saw the indecision in her eyes. "I'll be right here the whole time," he added. "We'll get through this. Together."

"What if they're not happy to see me? What if they're angry?"

"Are ya lot comin' down anytime soon? We're freezin' down here!" The irate Scottish brogue shouted.

With a roll of her eyes, Charlie shouted, "Yes, hold on!"

"We'll face it together," Jim emphasized, taking her hand and squeezing it. "I will not leave your side."

With a hesitant smile, Charlie nodded, grateful for the support she knew she was going to need. Her parents were not the normal nuclear parents many of her friends had. Her mother had a master's in psychology with a doctorate in neuroscience while her dad held a master's in mechanical engineering. They were both military since ROTC in high school, and her mother held top positions in intelligence. To fool her parents, Charlie was going to need all the skills of the 23rd century crew.

With a deep sign, Charlie and Jim slid down the rope to the anxious group below. Uhura wrapped one of the blankets around her shoulders, using the corner to wipe the blood from the cut on her temple. "Well?" she asked. "Do you know where we are?"

Charlie scanned the restless faces waiting impatiently. "Well guys, I won't know for certain until we're over there, but I think it's time I welcome you to the 21st century."

"Well that's just great," Bones growled throwing up his hands. "Might as well be the stone age."

"Relax, Bones," Jim snapped, his arms wrapped around his barreled chest as his breath frosted in the winter air. "We'll figure out how to get back. All of us." He stared emphatically at Charlie. "We've got two centuries worth of knowledge over the people here. We will go home."

"But for now," Charlie added. "Follow my lead. I don't know how this is going to go, or what will happen but be prepared. You're walking into a military household and one where they very well may think I'm dead. I've been gone three years my time, but I don't know what year this is. Could be three, could be five, could be ten. All I know, it's not going to be the same as Starfleet." Charlie surveyed each face as they all nodded in understanding. That's when Charlie took in the slanted eyebrows and pointed ears of one of their members. "Shit, Spock. What are we going to do with you?"

It took a minute for the others to grasp what Charlie meant. Understanding dawned when they realized they were no longer in the United Federation of Planets, but the United States of America circa 2016.

"I can stay in the structure above," Spock consented. "Until we can determine how to introduce me to the inhabitants of this time."

Charlie worried her lip, shaking her head. "That's not a good idea," she said.

"I have taken the appropriate survival classes at the Academy, Cadet. I will be fine."

"Spock, what was the average temperature on Vulcan?" Charlie asked, crossing her arms.

"My planet would range from 43.3º C to 51.6º C, although it was not unheard of to reach 70 ºC."

"Right. Well this is Colorado. And judging by the light, and the snow on the ground, we're probably in late fall or winter. We can easily reach -10º C at night. You'll freeze out here."

"I have an idea," Uhura announced, grabbing the base of her torn uniform and ripping off a long grey strip from the bottom. Reaching up, she secured the band around Spock's eyebrows, covering his ears in the process.

"That should work," Sulu remarked.

"Oh aye, until the poor man needs a scratch from that wool," Scotty grumbled.

"It'll do for now," Charlie placated. "We'll figure out something more permanent later. Is that alright, Commander?"

Spock adjusted the strap. "This will suffice."

"Good," Jim said. "We follow Charlie. Be careful what you say and do. We're already familiar with what happens when the past is messed with."

Her hands were shaking as Charlie led the group down familiar trails toward her childhood home. The paths were still worn from years of her and her siblings racing through the woods. The same cold bite of winter stung her cheeks, and the mile-high altitude was quickly making itself known as everyone panted out of breath behind her. What was she going to say? Should she ring the doorbell? What if they weren't home? What if they moved? Marcus mentioned their ranks had changed. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that a move could have happened.

A warm hand slipped into her chilled one, holding it firm as Jim leaned over and whispered, "I'm right here."

She squeezed back, too overcome to add anything else. The path led them into the clearing, the dampened winter sun shining on the paddocks and barns. The land was awash in yellows and tans, the dull brown vegetation of winter only muted by a thin layer of snow. Horses could be heard in the stable closest to them, too cold to be allowed in the fields.

Charlie followed the familiar path around the out buildings, coming to a stop as the main house loomed before her. Although it had been years since she was home, it looked unchanged. The cabin-inspired house was large and imposing, the strong wood beams and rustic brick were stout and solid. The second story deck with its iron railings added a modern element while the mired of windows were spot free and clear, reflecting the early morning sun.

"This was your home?" a shocked Uhura asked, staring at what she thought was a mansion among the hills.

"Was my home," Charlie acknowledged. "It stopped being my home years ago."

"Well lassie, it's still an impressive sight," Scotty remarked, his hands on his hips.

Bones snorted, "Well let's see if anyone's home, shall we? Before we all catch hypothermia and die."

"Is there ever a time you're not dramatic?" Charlie admonished.

"Spitfire, you've known me how long?"

Charlie thought a moment. "Okay, fair."

With hesitant steps, Charlie came to the base of the deck, the stairs winding above to the back of the house. The door was usually unlocked so the trainers and field hands could come in to take a short break, or let her parents know how one horse was doing over another. The wooden stairs creaked and bent with her weight, the wood weathered and worn from years of use. Reaching the top, Charlie was overcome with the familiarity of the situation. The lawn chairs and deck furniture tied up and sheltered for winter. The tables moved to the side, and the grill covered and pushed into the corner.

The dark wooden French doors stood before her, and with a grasp on the ornate handle, Charlie stepped into the house she swore she'd never see again.

The warm air was a relief as it hit her in the face. The gas fire was on in the living room, adding heat and light to the new morning. The dark, rustic furniture was free of dust, the curtains drawn back, and the floors swept clean. If there was one thing her mother hated, it was a dirty, cluttered house. As Charlie stepped further into the kitchen area, the living room to her right, movement caught the corner of her eye. Turning, a woman with salt and pepper black hair tied in a severe low knot was standing at the stove, her blue robe covering her flannel pajamas with her black slippers peeking out underneath. She was a tall woman, lithe and strong, and Charlie knew the set of those shoulders and the no nonsense way she was scrambling eggs.

"Maurice is that you?" she called without turning around in her husky, alto voice. "I need you to look at that new gelding. I think he's got some inflammation in the right foreleg."

Charlie swallowed the lump in her throat as the others filled in behind her.

"Hello, Mother."

Charlie's mother froze, the spatula in her hand collapsing onto the counter as the woman spun around, her green eyes wide in alarm. Her face was more worn than Charlie had last seen, and there were prominent lines around her eyes that didn't use to be there. But for Charlie it was like looking into a mirror. Other than their eyes and her mother having darker hair now streaked with grey, the two were almost identical. The same, full shaped mouth, the same upturned small nose. But where Charlie only stood at five and half feet, her mother was easily five nine.

"Charlotte?" Margaret Noland gasped. "Is that you?"

"It is, Mother. I'm back."

Before Charlie knew what happened, her mother ran across the kitchen, throwing her arms around her daughter's shoulders as a giant sob escaped her throat. She crushed Charlie to her chest, tears running down her cheeks as she held on to her oldest girl.

"We thought you were dead," her mother wailed. "Kate and Philippa said you were never coming home. That you were lost forever. Oh, my daughter, where did you go?"

Charlie held onto her mother, the familiar scent causing tears to spring up in her dark eyes. "Mom so much has happened," Charlie cried, the comfort of her mother's embrace a soothing balm she didn't know she was missing. While her father was the enforcer, the woman clutching her to her chest was still her mother, still the one who soothed the hurts and tried to be the mediator between the two stubborn family members.

Her mother pulled back, holding Charlie at arm's length as she scrutinized everything about her child, from the disheveled bun, the streaks of dirt across her cheek where small cuts lingered, down to her grey jacket and skirt that were torn and burned in several areas. As if waking from a dream, the Air Force officer realized the state her daughter was in, and that there were others standing behind her child. With practiced movements, Charlie was thrown behind her mother as she drew a sharp kitchen knife from the nearest block, wielding it between herself and the others in the room.

"Who are you?!" Margaret spat. "What did you do to my daughter?"

"Mom, no!" Charlie shouted, jumping between woman and her friends who had all taken a hesitant step back. "No, these are my friends. They . . . uh . . . they saved my life."

Margaret looked between her daughter and the gaggle behind her, seeing the same uniforms with the same wear and tear marks. The one dark-skinned woman had a cut on her temple with dried blood, while the others sported small cuts and bruises. Slowly, she lowered the knife, placing it next to her on the counter, but not out of reach. "Saved your life how?"

Before Charlie could answer, a thunderous wave came hurtling down the stairs in the front of the house. Barking huskies and a young woman came skidding around the corner into the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, Margaret turned and shut off the burner to the stove, the eggs she'd been cooking beginning to burn.

"Mom! What were you shouting? I heard—" she paused as the three dogs rushed by her to sniff at the new arrivals, Scotty and Sulu hunching down to scratch the available bellies. The woman was clearly the youngest Noland, her black hair hung loose and short, while her green eyes trained on Charlie as her mouth dropped open in shock. "Charlie?!"

"Rachel!" Both sisters collided and a fierce hug, more tears released as they began talking at once, falling back into the sibling rhythm as if nothing happened.

"What are you doing here? When did you get back?! I thought you were dead. We searched everywhere—"

"You have no idea what I went through, where I've been. It's incredible what I've seen—"

"Girls!" It was evident this was a common occurrence in the Noland household. "Rachel, let your sister breathe."

Rachel took a step back from her older sister, her face alight in a way Margaret hadn't seen since before 'the disappearance'. "Where were you?" Rachel glanced over to the side, finally taking notice there were six other people in her house besides her family. "Oh, hello."

"Rach, Mom, let me introduce you to my friends. They're the reason I'm here today."

Charlie introduced the group one by one, stumbling over Spock's name, which had her sister raising her brows in suspicion, especially since Charlie was only using the first names.

"Finally, this is Jim," Charlie introduced, grabbing his hand and pulling him up next to her. Her smile, and the light that shone in her eyes were so obvious, Rachel figured fireworks would have been subtler.

"Hey buddy," Rachel grinned, none too subtly as she winked at a scowling Charlie, reaching out to shake his hand.

Jim grinned good naturally. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Now that formalities are done, where were you Charlotte? It's been over three years. No word, no call, we were worried sick. We thought you were dead. There's a gravestone next to your grandparents at the cemetery." Margaret's eyes bore into her daughter's, the mother having had her closure the intelligence officer was ready and waiting.

"That story is pretty complicated."

"We heard nonsense about time travel, star ships, space battles and aliens. I doubt it's more complicated than that."

There was anxious shuffling happening behind her. Even though Charlie was one of the top students at the Academy, had faced Klingons and Augments, the withering glare her mother used had Charlie cowering in her boots.

"Yeah, Mom, um, about those stories . . . well the thing is we—"

"Hey, Peg have you seen my— what the hell is going on here?"

A tall, imposing man stood at the entrance to the consortium, surveying the group with his dark eyes narrowed. He was a bald man, well over six feet tall with muscle definition that made men half his age jealous. He stood tall and erect; the very notion of slouching a distant memory. Bones and Jim immediately emulated his stance, sizing him up as he took their measure. His thick hands were in fists, and although he was an engineer, Charlie knew that he boxed every Tuesday and Thursday, and could easily take Jim, Bones, and possibly Spock in a fight.

"Hello, Daddy."

The same eyes locked with each other, the first set shocked while the other was contrite. Three years was a long time to be away from her family, but had it been three decades, Charlie was sure she'd still see the same emotion swirl in her father's eyes.

"You're back," he barked. If she was conscious of standing taller, facing her father directly, she didn't make it known. But Rachel raised one brow, interested in this new turn.

"Yes, Sir."

What else could she say? She hadn't planned on coming home, nor did she think Jim would ever meet her family. They were becoming a distant memory, one that she missed, but had resigned herself to never seeing again. But now she was again in the 21st century, and whether her family knew it or not, she was going back with Jim when they figured out their way home.

Robert's gaze roamed over the group, assessing everyone then as he pointed. "Who are they?"

"They're my . . . friends. Sir."

Nodding dismissively, his keys dropped on the table and he turned, stomping away to the study at the south side of the house where the door closed with a snap. Charlies hand flinched into a fist, indignation and shame raising the color in her cheeks. No hug, no 'I'm glad you're alive'. Not even a 'where the hell have you been?' Nothing.

"Robert!" her mother yelled, her hands rising to her hips.

"I'll go talk to him," Rachel said, her sympathetic gaze going to Charlie, understanding passing between the sisters. "It's just a shock, ya know? Just give him some time." With a shrug, she headed to the study and slipped inside where her father's deep muffled voice immediately began shouting.

Charlie winced then, folding into herself as every disappointment she ever had resurfaced. Jim's arm wrapped around her frame, pulling her into his warm chest, his eyes like shards of ice as they stared at the closed door. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Charlotte, take your friends to the basement while I speak with your Father. We'll discuss this later." Margaret squared her shoulders and marched toward the study, her voice matching with her husband's once she was behind the closed door.

Charlie turned to her friends, her face alive with shame. "Well guys. Uh. Welcome. Mi casa, su casa."

"Your father was not happy to see you?" Spock, who's been a silent observer in the back, finally voiced what they were all thinking.

"No, you green blooded hobgoblin. He was so ecstatic he had to go collect himself," McCoy barked. "Your old man's a piece of work, Spitfire. No wonder you wanted to stay with us."

Charlie gave a tentative smile, catching Jim's concerned gaze before darting away. "Let me take you guys downstairs. It's going to be a minute." She opened the door to the basement, the others filing down the stairs where they waited for the storm to calm.

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 ***shameless plug for reviews* Let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter Three: Discovery

**I hope you're all enjoying this newest saga! I haven't heard from many of you, so I assume you are enjoying it. I figure as I finish a chapter I'll post another one for you all! I hope you enjoy!**

 *****Disclaimer: I've rated this story T because it really is...except for this chapter. Definite M themes here. If you like a T rated chapter pm me and I can send you an edited version. For you youngsters, none for you.*****

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Discovery**

The night was freezing. Temperatures had dipped below zero for the first time that season and the threat of a winter storm was on the way for the foothills and front range of Colorado. Charlie enjoyed the sharpness of the cold as she leaned against the deck supports outside her bedroom door. Being the black sheep of the family had its benefits when you get the entire basement suite to yourself, including your own bathroom and living room with sliding doors onto a patio. She had one of her sheep's wool blankets draped around her shoulders as she stared up at the bright full moon filling the night sky with its cold glow. Although there wasn't a cloud seen, Charlie could smell the snow coming down off the ridge. The weatherman said three to six inches, but Charlie was betting it was going to be more like five to eight if the storm held. She'd been through enough winters in Colorado to know you could never predict the snow total, especially when you lived at the base of Pike's Peak.

It was close to midnight, and the change in time from where they were in 23rd century San Francisco, to their landing in 21st century Colorado had everyone in a deep state of jet lag. But where the others were spread out throughout her living room, asleep for hours, Charlie was wide awake and wondering. Her father never came back down to talk to her, and the rest of her family spent their time trying to calm him down. From what Rachel said, he had been raving about calling the police and sending the National Guard after her. She had been gone too long to just waltz back into the house like she still lived there.

Charlie blew a piece of bang from her eyes, shaking her head in frustration. She never asked to come back, had been perfectly fine staying where she was. She couldn't even remember why she felt compelled to jump down that tunnel, and she had no clue where those figures with the child had gone. Her family's property bordered Pike National forest. They could have easily disappeared into the woods. Or if they found a way to get to I-25, they could be anywhere.

"Damn, it's freezing out here." Charlie jumped as Jim came next to her, wrapped in his own blanket.

"Jesus, Jim. Wear a bell or something."

He grinned, leaning down to lay a kiss on her cold lips. "But it's hilarious to see you jump."

She shot a glare, her eyes moving back to the white globe in the sky.

"Are you okay?" Jim brushed a strand of windblown hair behind her ear, his concerned gaze riveted to her.

She sighed. "I'm fine. Just thinking about earlier. Today's display wasn't totally unexpected. I think I'm more embarrassed than anything."

"Well don't be." He opened his arms, pulling Charlie into his embrace as he nuzzled his warm cheek against her frozen one. "We won't judge you any differently. Trust me, having the legacy of your dad to live up to isn't always a great thing."

"Yes, but your father never embarrassed you in front of some the smartest people you know. Friends who you respect and love before anything else. He didn't even act like he was glad to see me."

"That's not true Charlie. I bet it was just the shock of having you come home."

"A father should embrace his daughter then. Tell her he loves her, that's he's relieved she's home. I bet your dad would have done that if it had been you."

Jim stiffened. "You're right. But I'll never know."

Charlie blew a piece of bangs out of her eyes, her constitution torn. "Jim, I know you hate not ever knowing your dad, and I've always tried so hard not to blast mine in front of you. But the display you saw today is par for the course with my father. I'm never good enough; can never do anything right. Mom and Rachel had the expected reactions from family. His was cold at best." She stepped away from Kirk, climbing back into the shell that always protected her from her father's dissatisfaction. "I never wanted you to see this, to see how he treated me; what it was like in this house."

Jim frowned, following her into the moonlight but respecting her need for space. "Charlie, he will never make me stop loving you. In fact, I love you more now that I've seen what you had deal with growing up. How you overcame that to fight Sagan and Khan, who apparently this guy beat. Meeting your dad, I can see how Khan lost."

Charlie smiled, but the light didn't reach her eyes. This wasn't the same man Khan goaded her with. This was the father she left behind, which meant they were back in her world, where Star Trek was just a show. And now, Charlie had to figure out a way to get them all back where they belonged, before they learned the truth of where they really were.

"Jim?" She turned, the light from the moon like a white halo around her. "No matter what happens, you'll always love me, right?"

He didn't understand what she could mean, his arms crossing under the blanket. "Charlie, I've loved you since I first saw you, and I'll love until the day I die . . . again. It's you and me to the bitter end like we've said. I promise, no matter what happens now or in the future, you and I are a team."

She nodded, shuffling over to him until he had no choice but to pull her into his warm cocoon. "Just remember that next time I piss you off, ok?"

Jim laughed holding her close as the wind picked up and clouds began drifting in from the north. Yep. Eight inches were coming.

The world was a sea of white. Giant, fluffy flakes of snow fell from the sky in a silent torrent, building up inch by inch as the morning progressed. By the time the crew would wake, six inches would coat the ground outside the house with no end in sight. Most of Charlie's family had already disbursed for the day, undeterred by the weather. She was up early, sipping her tea as the others continued to sleep in the early morning, her nightmares rearing their ugly heads again. Images of dark, swirling masses, the clashing of battle, and her father's angry eyes bolted her up in the predawn hours. Her heart racing and breath shallow, Charlie half expected a figure to come at her from the corner, but the soft silence of snowfall and the even breathing of those in the basement filled the air.

Used to the feeling of exhaustion, she had quietly gotten up, trying not to disturb Uhura who slept on the trundle bed next to her, and padded her way upstairs.

That's where her mother found her, leaning against the doorframe and watching the flakes float gently down.

"Good morning," Margaret greeted, setting her black briefcase down next to the stairs.

"Morning," Charlie mumbled not turning around.

"You're up early."

She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

Coming up behind, Margaret snaked an arm around her daughter, pulling her close.

"I'm so glad you're home," she whispered into her daughter's disheveled hair.

"At least you are," Charlie mumbled as her mother released her and headed over to the coffee pot.

"Your father is too." Margaret poured herself a thermal, shaking her head as she did.

"He has a funny way of showing it."

Margaret clucked her tongue, rolling her eyes as she came next to Charlie, watching the snow fall. "Charlotte, you're more like your father than you realize."

Charlie snorted. "Yeah ok, don't start on that same argument, Mom. He could have at least acted like he was glad to see me."

"It was just a shock—"

"Are you ever not going to defend him?" Charlie's eyes were hard as she turned to her mother, barely registering the dark suit Margaret was wearing.

Margaret pursed her lips, her seafoam gaze as hard as her daughter's. "He's my husband, and your father, whether you like it not. I will defend him till death do us part. When you're married someday, you'll understand."

"I already understand, Mom. And when my guy's an idiot, I tell him."

"Your guy, huh? And who is your guy? Not that blue-eyed hunk you brought home with you?" Her tone was a mix of humor and condescension.

Charlie turned away, unwilling to answer the poignant stare of her mother. There were too many things unsaid to start there.

"Fine, but I'll find out eventually." Charlie rolled her eyes, having heard that often growing up. She tried to ignore the fact that her mother almost always did. "Well, I planned to stay home today but something came up and I have to go into the office for a few hours," Margaret added, picking her bag by the stairs and twisting the lid onto her cup. "But I should be home around two or three."

Charlie finally registered the dark pantsuit instead of the officer's uniform that had been standard growing up. Spinning, she caught her mother as she marched off toward the garage.

"Office? Where are you working?"

Margaret poked her head back in the kitchen, throwing on her winter jacket.

"I'm still at Cheyenne Mountain. Just in a different capacity."

"What are you working on?"

"You know that's classified. Oh, and we're going to have a discussion when I come home, young lady." The steel in her gaze had Charlie's stomach doing summersaults. "I want to know where you were and why in God's name you didn't let us know you were ok. I mean it, Charlotte Elizabeth. You will tell me everything."

The door shut with a snap, and Charlie returned to studying the swirling white outside the door. She was going to need to think of something and think it up quick.

* * *

Jim was awake. Had been since before dawn. Some if it was the snoring competition between Scotty and Bones. Some of it had been the unfamiliar environment and the thought of in-laws sleeping two floors above. Most of it, though he'd only admit to himself, was the lack of a warm, very female body next to him. A concept that a few years ago he would have laughed at the thought to be tied down to one woman when there were so many shapes and sizes to choose from. But that was until he met Charlie and realized none of the other women would ever be her.

Checking out her small bedroom, Jim had figured he could squeeze his body next to hers on the twin bed that occupied most of the space, but with her cheeks flaming, Charlie made it clear that with her parents sleeping above it was wiser not to tempt fate.

Jim wanted to debate further, had a whole counterargument planned in his head when Uhura slunk by and shut the door in his face, smirking mischievously as she said, "Hoes before bros."

As Jim lay on the floor, his hands laced behind his head as he stared at the weirdly textured ceiling, he had a new appreciation for everything Charlie went through when she came into his time. He hadn't understood the changes she had to endure as she adjusted to his world; didn't realize how much of herself she had to change to fit in. Now that he was in the 21st century, he felt weird. Disjointed. He was in an unfamiliar environment but in a familiar place. He didn't know how half the items in the house worked, the air had a gritty texture to it, and the water tasted strongly of chemicals.

But it was Charlie's home. The place where she spent her childhood, and learned to be the woman she was. Jim felt such awe and appreciation at how fast and how far Charlie had learned about his time, understanding how difficult it must have been coming from there.

The door to Charlie's room creaked open as she quietly padded out, snaking around the sleeping forms of Spock and Sulu and heading upstairs. Jim heard her move about the kitchen, closely followed by the sound of her mother's voice. Although their words were muffled, Jim could hear the tone and inflection from Margaret Noland and knew she wanted answers. Not that he could blame her. Her daughter had been gone for almost three years by the sounds of it and then randomly showed up with a whole herd of people behind her. He'd be asking questions too.

With a sigh, Jim threw the quilt off his legs and stood up with a stretch and small grown. His bare feet tiptoed across the floor toward the stairs, trying to avoid the snoring ensemble around him. His jacket had been thrown in the corner, but he wore his Academy T-shirt underneath and still had his grey wool pants. One thing was certain, if they were staying any longer, he'd have to find new clothes.

At the top of the stairs, Jim turned, catching Charlie staring out at the snow as she leaned against the frame of the French doors. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun and she had a flannel shawl draped around her shoulders. For an instant, Jim's breath caught in his throat. He could see them in the future, in their own home as Charlie watched for their kids and a dog that played in the snow.

With a shake of his head, Jim cleared the thoughts. Kids? Was he thinking about kids?

"Hey," he called, trying to hide the embarrassment even though she couldn't see into his thoughts.

Charlie turned, the soft white light illuminating her eyes so they shined.

"Hey yourself," she answered. "How'd you sleep?"

"Not great," he admitted with a shrug. "Between the dueling orchestra and the rock-hard floor, sleep wasn't easy."

Charlie winced, shrugging her shoulders. "Well I can't do anything about the snoring, but I'll dig through the garage today. I'm sure there's some equipment left over from when my brother was in Boy Scouts. I'll see if I can find a few cots and maybe an air mattress. Coffee?"

The delicious aroma finally hit his consciousness and Jim practically groaned. "God yes."

Charlie laughed, pouring Jim a cup while adding come coffee to her now empty mug. Jim gratefully took the steaming liquid from her and drank happily, undeterred by the bitter taste. As he glanced up, he noticed the tiredness of Charlie's dark gaze; dark circles encompassed her puffy eyes.

"Nightmares?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

Charlie sighed, knowing she couldn't avoid talking to him. "Yes. They came back last night, but they were weird. There were these dark swirling masses involved in some battle, and then my dad showed up."

"He really got to you."

"He always gets to me."

Jim frowned as Charlie turned away. Although he never knew his father, the man his mother described would never have treated him the same way Robert Noland treated Charlie.

"I'm here now," he reiterated.

"You say that. But wait until you spend longer than five seconds with him. Then it gets fun."

"You're not alone anymore." He sat his cup down on the counter, his hands catching her shoulders and turning her around. "We're all here with you."

"Yes, but my mother wants answers. How in the world am I going to tell her that I've been two hundred years in the future?"

"We'll think of something."

Charlie signed again, reaching up to rub away the headache that was beginning to form. "Sometimes I wish I had your confidence."

"Are you kidding me? Half the time you smack me in the face with yours," Jim joked, wrestling a grin from Charlie and she ducked away, hiding her flaming cheeks.

"Well," she changed the subject. "Let me make another pot before everyone gets up, and check to see what my mother has in the fridge. Unfortunately, I doubt she was expecting to feed seven extra mouths so there may not be much and there's no way I'm going out in this. Besides, I don't have my license or any money on me."

Jim blinked. "That's right, you use a currency here." The task of getting back just got a lot harder.

"Yeah, but my parents are loaded. Well not loaded, but they're comfortable. I'll see what I can get from them." Charlie paused, the cup halfway to her mouth. "Actually, I'll ask Rachel to do it. She was always better at weaseling money out of the Colonel than either Bryan or I ever could."

"Where is your brother?"

Charlie grinned at the way Jim tried to act nonchalant. "Why? Nervous about meeting him?"

Jim glared over the top of his mug. "I've fought Klingons, the Gorn, Romulans; I've done the Kobiashi Maru three times—"

"Jim, it's totally fine to admit you're scared of my family." Charlie tried not to laugh, but the daggers thrown at her from Jim's gaze had her almost rolling.

"I'm not scared to meet your family."

They could hear movement downstairs as the others began to wake. "Sure, Dear," Charlie grinned. "Whatever you say."

Jim was about to respond when a strange ringing filled the house from all corners. Startled shouts below had Charlie rolling her eyes when she realized that they had never heard a home phone before. The call ID was blocked so she left it alone until her mother's voice began to call from the answering machine.

" _Charlotte! Pick up the phone; it's your mother—_ "

"What in holy hell is that monstrosity!"

Scotty was at the top of the stairs, his eyes wide and his thin hair standing up in all directions.

Charlie tried not to snicker as she picked up the silver receiver in the kitchen. "It's called a phone, Scotty. Hello, Mother. Yes—"

"Hey Scotty, uh, your shirt's on backwards," Jim pointed out with a grin as Charlie plugged her ear to listen to her mother's voice.

"Well I didna have the time to make sure my appearance was up to snuff, Cap'n. Thought we were under attack."

"Under attack from what?" Jim scoffed.

"Who knows! It's the 21st century. Could be anythin'. Is that coffee I smell?" Before Jim could blink, the Scotsman had a mug, poured a cup and drank half of it. "Aw yeah. That's the good stuff."

"Okay, yes I'll take care of it. _Yes_ , I know what to do. Good-bye, Mother." Charlie hung up the phone will a roll of her eyes.

"Is that a telephone?" Scotty asked, the awe present in his tone as he set down his mug.

"Yes?" Charlie had barely finished when Scotty had it out of her hand and began messing with the receiver. "I swear to God, Scotty. You make sure it's put back together perfectly. You hear me?"

Scotty just waved his hand as he meandered to one of the chairs in the living room, the back of the receiver already gone.

"Toddler," Charlie grumbled. "He's like a toddler."

"At least he can keep occupied," Jim noted. "What'd your mom want?"

Charlie groaned, remaking the coffee in the pot as the others began to thunder up the stairs. "Because of the storm, the grooms can't make it up the hill."

"So what does that mean?"

The others began filing in, their hair distressed and sleep still in their eyes. Charlie turned toward them, the coffee pot percolating behind her.

"How are you lot around horses?"

* * *

Although the temperature was below freezing, the crew inside the stable was dripping with sweat. Some of them were hauling the wheelbarrow full of manure and dirty hay outside to the compost pile while others laid down fresh straw in each stall. The work was monotonous, and dirty, but the crew was laughing as they joked with each other, and within thirty minutes, all but one stall was cleaned with each horse nibbling on a treat or a fresh bucket of oats.

The only stall left held a buckskin mare that kicked the stall door anytime someone came near. She neighed loudly, and for those like Sulu and Spock who had never been around horses before, they were hesitant to go anywhere near the back of the stable. She tossed her black mane in annoyance and made sure everyone knew she wanted out.

"Let me guess, that one's yours?" Jim asked Charlie, leaning on the pitchfork he'd used to move hay. Being a farm boy from Iowa had its perks.

"How'd you know?" she smirked. "Yeah, that's my Spirit. She and I competed in Westernairs when I was in high school."

"What's westernairs?" Uhura asked, taking a swig from a water bottle.

"It's based here in Colorado. I actually had to drive up to Denver to participate. Drill riding, mostly. But I got to learn better horse care, roping, and trick riding."

"I didn't know you did that," Jim remarked.

Charlie shrugged. "You never asked. Besides it's been over three years since I've even sat on a horse, let alone do any of the tricks I knew how to do."

"That's cool? Right? That's the term?" Uhura asked, a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

Charlie grinned, "Yeah. It was cool."

"How much more of this mucking do we have to do, Spitfire?" McCoy barked, bringing in the newly emptied wheelbarrow. "I'm a doctor you know, not a stable boy."

"Aye, I smell something mighty fowl," Scotty added, lifting his arm to smell underneath.

"Nice," Sulu muttered in disgust, Scotty giving him a 'what?' shrug.

"I believe we all require the opportunity to remove the work of today," Spock added from the back his arms tucking behind him. Charlie smirked, noticing the way the Vulcan tried not display his disgust at the humans surrounding him. Did Vulcans have superior smell as well as strength?

"That's fine, you guys helped me a lot. This would have easily me taken two hours. I'll get Spirit; she only responds to me anyway."

"I'll stay," Jim said, grabbing another hay bale, his forearms straining as he moved down by the last stall, a resounding thump echoing through the stable as Spirit kicked the door. Jim didn't even flinch, just dropped the bale and dusted the dirt off his work gloves.

Uhura raised on long, dark brow, her black eyes sparkling with mischief, especially when she noticed the heat in Charlie's cheeks.

"If there is more work to be done, we should stay and assist." Spock picked up the wheelbarrow until Uhura laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"They got it. Come on, you all smell as bad as the animals."

"Now hold up you—" McCoy growled as the team made their way outside, following the hastily made path through the snow toward the house. The sun finally peaked out from the clouds, the nine inches of whiteness beginning to sparkle like diamonds.

As their voices faded away, Jim pulled off the gloves, dropping them onto the floor.

"Well, I guess—" Before Charlie knew what happened, Jim had grabbed the sides of her face, his lips crushing to hers in heat and flame.

"I thought they'd never leave," Jim muttered as they came up for breath, gentling shoving Charlie toward the tack room. Charlie's brain had become muddled and fuzzy, the lips against her neck and the heat that uncoiled in her belly the only thoughts and sensations she cared about.

They stumbled into the tack room with a laugh, Charlie flicking on the light, illuminating the saddles, bridles, lead lines, and brushes in their neat and respected places. The minute the door closed behind Jim, Charlies lips were back on his, her hands stroking his back and her hips grinding into his.

With a groan, Jim nibbled his way down her jaw, drawing sighs and little gasps as he found her tender spots. Her hands pulled at his shirt and jacket, until he shed them to the floor, his bare chest heaving in exertion as the heat built in the small room.

Her shirt joined his, followed by her bra as Jim kissed his way from her neck, to her shoulders and south until he took one rosy peak in his mouth. Charlie's head fell back with a gasp as Jim's arms became the only thing holding her up. He moved from one to the other, loving them as much as he loved the woman they were attached to, showing Charlie that whether it was 2018 or 2261 nothing else mattered besides her.

"Jim," she gasped, her backside hitting the table used to repair and polish. "I need you."

In an instant he stood up, his lips capturing hers, torturing and lavishing, tasting and relishing the woman beneath him. Hands worked on buttons and zippers, undergarments almost torn in their haste to be shed. What could have been an instant or a thousand years, Charlie felt strong arms lift her onto the table, her legs going around sturdy hips where a large scar covered one side. Her eyes shone like fire, glassy with desire while Jim's sapphire gaze twinkled with love and trust, darkening as he slowly joined with her.

Charlie gasped; it didn't matter if it was her first time or the hundredth, every time Jim filled her, a deep contentment swept through their blood. Her brain was foggy with desire, but her nerves were calm, and heart beat with a steady, strong rhythm. No matter what happened, no matter what villains they faced or triumphs they completed, this wonderful, smart, amazing man loved her, and would for the rest of time.

They started a slow rhythm, both lost in the feelings of one another and the love that bloomed between them. But as the heat grew so did their pace until Jim and Charlie where panting in their effort, their eyes closed and their arms and legs wrapped around one other. They climbed the same peak until with synchronized cries they crested together, their muscles spasming and their hearts beating in unison.

Panting and satiated, limp bodies draped across one another and dimly, Jim wondered how he was still standing.

"Well that was unexpected," Charlie remarked once her breath caught up.

Jim lifted his head from where he had laid it on her shoulder. "I don't hear you complaining."

"Oh I'm not," she grinned. "Just didn't realize we both needed that."

"I've been thinking about you all night. And with your parents in the house—"

"You don't need to say another word," Charlie interrupted, rising to leave a kiss on his lips.

Jim pulled out with a small gasp, reaching down to grab their clothes, passing Charlie's off to her. He smirked as he noticed the languid ways Charlie moved, and the bright flush still coating her cheeks. "I know we'd normally stay naked for a long time," his smirk turned wicked as Charlie glared at him, shimmying into her jeans. "But we do need to get that stall done, and get back to the others."

"I hate when you're right," she agreed, throwing on her shirt, then her jacket over it, both covered with dust and straw. "We need to come up with a plan though; for what to tell my parents."

"I've been thinking about it," Jim said, throwing on his jacket but leaving it loose and open. Walking back to Charlie, Jim ran his hands along her arms, his heart full as he stared at her swollen lips and sparkling gaze. "I think we're going to need the Vulcan."

Charlie nodded. "I think so too. Let's get Spirit, you clean her stall, I'll take care of her, then we can talk to Spock."

"Deal." He touched his lips to hers, already growing warm at the thought of her. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

It didn't take long to get Charlie's horse situated back in her clean stall, thoroughly brushed and content with a new bucket of oats and a couple carrots. Charlie and Jim walked hand in hand back into the house, sharing sidelong glances with each other and wishing they could go back to the tack room. The intensity of the last 24 hours had them both wound to the point they needed a release, or they'd break. Charlie was facing demons she thought she'd left behind, but with Jim at her side, she'd be able to battle them head-on.

Each showered since the others were done, and Charlie went up, raiding her brother's room for clothes for the men. The closest in size was McCoy and Jim, so poor Scotty and Sulu were swimming in their clothes while Spock's long legs and arms were peeking out of the jeans and shirts. Charlie knew her father's closest held more promises but she didn't dare go into their room.

Uhura, on the other hand, was taller and lither than Charlie was; the little bit of extra outfits she had in her closet barely fitting the communications officer. Knowing her sister wouldn't care, and far closer in size to Uhura, Charlie grabbed some old pieces Rachel wouldn't care about. Besides, Charlie was older; she was higher on the food chain.

Back in the basement, smelling decidedly better, the crew hung out in small groups, laughing among each other but a tension hovering. They were shooting glances between each other, wondering when their captain would let them know what their plan was. They couldn't be stuck in the 21st century forever. They needed to go home, get back to the _Enterprise_ and figure out what the hell happened at the dedication ceremony.

Scotty cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the crew. "No that I donnae mind this little vacation, do ye think we got a way to get home? Not that your home isn't lovely," Scotty added hastily glancing at Charlie.

"Mr. Scott raises a valid point," Spock spoke from the corner, a book in his hand. "We are still unaware of the process that brought us here, nor do we know how to get back to our timeline."

"Charlie mentioned it was the same thing that brought her to us." Sulu ran a hand behind his neck. "Could we replicate it?"

"It was like it," Charlie agreed. "But it wasn't the same, not exactly. It felt like a tornado, like last time, but this one I couldn't hear or see anything. It was black, like going down a tunnel."

"Never mind the fact that there's no red matter left," Uhura added.

"So then how?" Sulu asked.

Charlie thought a moment. "Maybe we're asking the wrong question."

"How so?" Spock asked after a lingering pause. Charlie glanced among the group.

"We're thinking about what happened right then. The process of how we got here. But what about what happened before. The people that showed up and started us down this rabbit hole. Who were they? What did they want? They were going for Jim and that girl. Why?"

Spock absorbed the information in a calculating way, dipping his head in agreement. "Valid points."

"So if we can figure out who they were, maybe we could figure out how they got us here." Sulu was rapidly putting the pieces together.

"Aye," Scotty nodded. "If I could get a hold of one of their devices, the one that made us all," Scotty made a twitching motion, "I could figure out if it brought us here."

"Except Charlie," McCoy pointed out. "We all were affected except her."

"Why weren't you?" Uhura asked.

Charlie shrugged, just as baffled as the rest of them. "I felt it. It felt like a soft current, like when you can just touch electricity. And it wanted to hit me, but there was a, I guess you could call it force field around me. It couldn't penetrate."

"Fascinating," replied the Vulcan in the corner, going back into his book, as if looking for the answers within its depths.

"As 'fascinating' as it is," McCoy rolled his eyes. "Until we can figure out where they went, we're stuck."

"Thanks for that point, Bones," Jim muttered, finally joining the conversation. "We can't do anything until we can get transportation, the snow melts, and we get Charlie's family off our back." The others nodded in agreement.

"Spock, let me see you a minute." Jim jerked his head toward a corner, where the two met and began conversing in hushed tones.

As the others went back to their own discussions, McCoy began messing with the remote for the television hanging above the fireplace. Reruns were playing, some from shows Charlie knew, others she didn't. Charlie was half paying attention, until a certain theme started playing, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

"Oh no." Charlie practically dove over the couch, slapping the side the TV until the show disappeared. "Nothing to see here guys. Uh, remember how I told you about Cards for Humanity, why don't we—"

It was too late. With a push on the remote, McCoy turned the television back on where an episode of _Star Trek, the Next Generation_ was playing. It was one of the later seasons, when Ambassador Spock snuck off to Romulus on a peace mission. There on the screen was Captain Picard and Commander Riker, closely followed by the Vulcan in question. The mention of the ship caused the whole room to grow quiet as they silently watched with growing alarm. Charlie felt the shame crawl up her back, her eyes rooted to the floor.

"What the hell is this?"

It was like a whisper by McCoy, but Charlie winced as if it was shouted.

"Something I didn't want you know."

"How is this possible?" Spock approached the television as if he'd never seen it before, his conversation with Jim forgotten. "You had mentioned a familiarity with Ambassador Spock. Is this why? Was this why you could never answer how?"

Charlie's eyes beseeched the others. "It's complicated."

"Well Spitfire, it doesn't look like we're going anywhere soon, so we've got all the time in the world." Bones snapped, grabbing one of the chairs and sitting in it backwards, his arms crossing over the back of it. "Make it uncomplicated."

With a growl, Charlie snatched the remote from McCoy's grasp, muting the episode behind her. She turned to regard those staring at her, her heart in her throat, the gazes mistrustful and betrayed.

"Fine, but let me get this out in one go, okay? Please don't ask any question until it's finished."

She glanced around as everyone nodded.

"I've known about all of you my whole life." To say the faces gazing back at her were shocked would be an understatement. "About fifty years ago, at the height of the Apollo missions to the moon a television show aired called _Star Trek_. It was about a crew and their space ship exploring the galaxy, charting new territories and boldly going where no one had gone before. The ship was called the _Enterprise_ and it was headed by Captain Kirk." Charlie caught Jim's cerulean gaze for a brief second and then darted away. "That's our—Your ship. It was revolutionary that the idea of humanity bettering itself and reaching for the stars could actually happen and have a crew as diverse as yours. The first interracial kiss between Uhura and Kirk was featured in one of the episodes which for the '60s was huge."

"Ew," Uhura shivered in disgust, Jim's face matching in the back corner.

"The show ran for three seasons before it was finally cancelled," Charlie continued. "But what started out as a slow burn turned into a cult classic. By the '70s, there was an animated show, and then the beginning of six films, the second one the most regarded called the Wrath of Khan." There were gasps and quick glances toward an impassive Kirk, propped up against the wall, no emotion being shown. "Based on the success of the films, a new show was developed, what you see behind me. _Star Trek, the Next Generation_ is set about eighty years past the end of the films. It features a new crew, the _Enterprise_ _D_ , and was far more serious and idealistic than its earlier counterpart.

"That was the show I grew up on. I always loved Captain Picard. He was tough, but fair. Everything I wish my dad could be as an officer. Pike was a lot like him." Charlie's throat caught, but she pushed the emotion back down. "I instantly knew where I was when I saw Klingons on Nimbus III, and then I knew when they were attacking you the timeline I was in."

"There were Klingons helping those Starfleet officers." Sulu asked, gesturing the episode running behind her. "Does that mean we become allies with them?" Sulu asked.

"It's fake," Bones snarled. "It's a made up piece of entertainment. Who the hell knows what's going to happen."

"Bones," Jim warned.

"You're right, McCoy," Charlie snapped. "In my universe, it is a made up show, but in your world this is your life."

"Are you saying this display pf theatre accurately depicts our lives?" Spock asked.

Charlie chewed her lip. "Yes . . . and no. These are actors portraying characters. But you are the characters, in the flesh and blood."

"So what? We're these other people?" Bones snapped. "With different lives, different professions, different families?!"

"No, you are still you." Charlie was exasperated, rubbing her forehead in agitation. "Think of it as the multiverse theory. Alternative universes. You guys have always looked at it as the two universes you focused on. Prime you and the current you. Prime Spock, you Spock." She gestured at the Vulcan who sat hunched over in thought. "But there's got to be so many more. Ones where you didn't go to Starfleet. Where you didn't defeat Nero. Where you didn't defeat Khan. I have a feeling for every decision we make there's a universe where we made the opposite choice."

"So yer talkin' like parallel universes?" Scotty piped up from the back, a perplexed look on his face.

"In a way. I'm not sure what the development was like in your timeline, but in mine we've had quantum mechanics since I think as early as the '50s, so there's been this idea of multi-universes since then. They've never been proven to exist though. As far as I know, I'm the only one who could prove it true. And I don't even understand how it worked."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Uhura sounded hurt, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed.

"And what? Have you lock me in the nut house? Do you honestly think you all would have believed me if you didn't just see it for yourself?" She pointed to the TV where the episode continued to run as if nothing were happening.

"She told me," Jim finally admitted, pushing off the wall he was leaning against to stand next to Charlie. Her brow furrowed in confusion, until realization dawned.

"You heard me?" While the thought would have made other women swoon, knowing their loves heard them even when they were comatose, Charlie's heart sank.

"Yeah, I did. I heard everything you ever spoke to me when I was out. It mostly felt like a dream, but now that I see this, I know it wasn't."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"After I woke up, I didn't know how to let you know I heard. I figured it didn't matter where you came from because you were there with me. That you weren't going back."

Charlie tried not to let the hurt sink in, but unconsciously she took a step back. "All this time though, we could have talked about it. Do you know how much this hurt? To not have you know? To not have any of you know?"

"Charlie, I'm sorry." Jim saw the pain in her eyes. He realized then how hard it must have been for her. To find herself in a new universe, one she only thought of as fantasy, but unable to tell a soul.

"And to make it worse," Charlie continued, her amber glare flashing as the spoke to the room. "I don't actually know what's happening in your world. It's not the one I know, the one I was raised with. I wasn't lying, Spock. I don't know what's going to happen. Not only did I land in a fantasy, but I landed in the changed one."

"Charlie—"

"No," she waved them off, tears threatening to spill. "I'm going upstairs. Let you guys talk and . . . figure out what you want to do."

Just then, she heard the ruckus of dogs and feet, her father's deep voice followed by her mother's. Before anyone could say anything, Charlie was charging up the stairs.

At the landing, Charlie swallowed her tears; not wanting to give her parent's any ammunition to use against her. Both her parents were standing in the living room, appearing to have an impassioned discussion. Deciding maybe the stable was the better place to be, her father noticed her presence.

"Charlotte."

She froze, spinning on her heel slowly.

"Hello, Colonel." Her mother was glaring at Charlie's father, Charlie flickering between the two.

"Good, I'm glad you're up here." He hurried over to her, grabbing the top of her arm and dragging her to the sofa in the living room.

"I- uh, what? Why?"

"The police are here."

Charlie's heart immediately jumped to life. "T-the police? What for?"

Robert's brows drew down confused, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "To arrest that group that kidnapped you. Don't worry, you're safe now." His pat on her shoulder had her ducking away.

She blinked at her father, his sincerity surprising her.

"WHAT?!"

* * *

 **Reviews are the bread and butter for us authors, so I hope you take two minutes and leave one for me! Especially since I realllly went out of my comfort zone with this chapter. Adieu!**


	4. Chapter Four: Alternative Universes

**Happy February! Here's another chapter for you all! I haven't heard a lot of responses so I hope you are all enjoying it! Please leave a review!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Alternative Universes**

It was so silent a pin could have dropped. Distantly, Charlie heard the bark of a dog and the subtle rumble of voices below. Although they were only meters from her, they might as well have been galaxies. There was a roaring in her ears as she felt her heart pounding in her chest.

Her attention spun between her father and mother as she vainly tried to convince herself that they were playing a joke on her; a horrible, unimaginable, cruel joke, but a joke nonetheless. She knew that they wanted answers; what parent wouldn't want to know where their child was for years? She just wasn't prepared to give them the truth, knowing that they'd never believe her. Her parents were rational, educated people; a scientist and an engineer. They'd never go for spaceships and aliens.

But she was planning to give them something, just enough to way to assuage their curiosity and show that she was fine. That way when she left again, they'd know she was taken care of. She just didn't know what that was yet - hadn't had a chance to talk to Spock or the others about it. But she recognized her parents demanded information. And as she glanced between their determined fronts, she knew she was going to have to think of something quick to save her friends.

Robert didn't show an ounce of remorse or wavered in his conviction, nor did Margaret quell the glare she leveled at her husband, her lips in an angry scowl. They both were waiting for her, for the confession that she had been locked away in some tower and had only recently freed herself. She just couldn't understand why they thought Jim and the crew were responsible.

"What are you talking about?" Charlie tried again slowly, bidding time. "Why call the police now?"

"Those people must have taken you away and stopped you from coming home. Why else would you have been gone for so long?"

"If they did what you said, why would they be here with me?" Charlie tried to reason. "Wouldn't the last thing they'd do be to show their face to you?"

"They followed you. Brainwashed you—"

"That's ridiculous," she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "I'm going back downstairs 'til you come to your senses." She spun quickly and tried to beat a hasty retreat. If she could get downstairs, maybe she could come up with a plan, a way to get out of the mess she now found herself in. Maybe she never should have come home.

"Don't you walk away from me, young lady," Robert barked, Charlie freezing in her tracks as that tone set the hair on her neck to rise. Her fists clenched, and she turned slowly back toward her father. "How is it ridiculous?" he continued. "You've been gone for three years. No word of where you were, or what you were you were even _alive._ What do you expect us to think?"

Charlie drew her lip between her teeth. With a sigh, she tried, "I'm sorry. Really, I am but I couldn't tell you where I was."

"Why not?" Margaret asked. "We taught you how to reach us if something ever happened."

"Where I went there was no way to let you know. Whether by conventional means or not," Charlie answered.

"There is always a way. Did I teach you give up so easily?" Robert growled.

"I didn't give up," Charlie snapped. "I don't give up."

"You must have. To be stuck with those people."

Charlie bit her tongue trying to keep her temper in check.

"'Those people' are very important to me, Colonel. Why can't you see that?"

"Brainwashing. That's what's going on here. I told you we should have done something last night," Robert pointed at his wife, pacing away and running a hand across the top of his shaved head.

"I am not brainwashed," Charlie growled. "Give me a little more credit."

"How can I?" Robert snapped, spinning toward her again. "I don't even know who you are right now."

"You've never known who I was." The words left before Charlie had a chance to pull them back. Well they were out now. No use beating around the bush anymore.

Robert rolled his eyes, his hands on his hips. "Yes, I do. You're a Noland. One in a long line that included kings and generals; a respected history you seem to want nothing to do with."

"That's not true—"

"Oh, it's very true," he cut off. "You've always ran from what was expected of you."

Charlie could feel her nails biting into her palm, her vision beginning to cloud with red. It was the same argument they've had her whole life. Over and over again. She was disappointing the family. She was wasting her time. She didn't have a purpose in life. Well she had a purpose now. And a calling. And she'd be damned if she wasn't going to go down without a fight, even if it was against her own father.

"You've never taken the time to figure out what it was _I_ wanted." It was through gritted teeth and almost a whisper, but her eyes flashed and her shoulders were thrown back.

"What you wanted was a fairytale. I gave you reality." And just like that, it was dismissed.

"What you gave me was a prison."

"Charlotte don't be so dramatic," Margaret chimed in, crossing her arms. "We gave you a roof over your head, food in your belly, and an education many only dream of. Are you really going to throw all that back in our face because you didn't have your way?"

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control within herself. "What I'm throwing back at you is that you've never listened to me. You have always done what you wanted. What looked better for you and your career; what this family looked like to others. Did you ever think that I was doing what was best for me? So it didn't suite your plans. Get over it. You're the adults. Wasn't it what you always told me? Assess, improvise and adapt?"

"Now she listens to us," Margaret threw her hands up in the air in exasperation.

"We discuss all this later," Robert tried to reason, quickly realizing the tactic Charlie was using. "First thing's first, we need to take care of the situation involving your kidnapping."

Robert turned just as the front door closed with a snap, Rachel sauntering into the house. She came to a dead stop, however, as she took in the scene in front of her. Her parents were squared off against a fuming Charlie, her sister looking angrier than she'd ever seen. She could practically feel the heat, and was surprised steam wasn't pouring from her ears.

"Well hi everyone," she attempted, untying the scarf from around her neck. "So is there a reason there's a couple police cruisers in the driveway?"

"How could you," Charlie spat ignoring her sister. "They are my friends. They didn't kidnap me."

Robert scoffed. "Obviously they've played you; corrupted you to think you're safe with them."

"They didn't corrupt me!" Charlie's eyes narrowed to slits, glaring at her father, her anger a torrent rush under her skin. "If anything they _protected me_ from what could have happened."

"Hello? Is anyone going to answer me?" Rachel butt in with a sigh. She was surprised it took this long for the first fight to happen.

"Not now, Rachel," Margaret snapped.

"Protected you from what, Charlotte?" Robert yelled. "From coming home? From being with your family?"

"They are my family!"

"What's going on?" Jim, Spock and the others stood behind Charlie, taking in the scene between those in the living room. Jim noticed the red and blue flashing lights reflect off the walls, his concern rising with each minute. "Charlie, are you okay?"

"Don't you speak to my daughter," Robert threatened, his finger raised as he took a few steps toward the captain. Charlie knew exactly what her father was doing. This was tangible enemy. He couldn't reasonably punish her, but he could go after those who he believed slighted him. Like a bull with a bullfighter, he was going for the waving fabric.

"Colonel, stop it," Charlie hissed, jumping between the men before anyone else could react. She glanced at Jim, her eyes pleading with him and the others before she moved her attention back to her angry father. "Stop all of this. They had nothing to do with why I left."

"Oh yes, starships and aliens," Robert growled beginning to pace again. "I heard all about that. Obviously, the Stockholm Syndrome hit you harder than Kate or Philippa."

"I don't have Stockholm's—"

"The mental hospital did them some good. Maybe we should send you—"

"Like hell you will." McCoy spoke up from the back, his southern drawl enhanced by his anger. He immediately stepped in front of Charlie, his broad shoulders a solid wall of protection. "I'm a doctor, buddy. And other than having a shit like you for a father, she's perfectly sound. Lord knows how."

"How dare you insult me in my own house," Robert yelled.

"Your house doesn't stop you from being an idiot," McCoy shot back. "Are you even listening to her?"

"I don't need too. It's nonsense you've shoved down her throat. My daughter knew how to behave and listen to her superiors."

"It's not nonsense!" Charlie fired back, shoving McCoy aside. This was her fight, her war she needed to win. The battles she faced led to this, with the crew giving her the confidence she never had before. She finally found the support she'd been desperate for her whole life.

"Kate, Philly and I were kidnapped, but not by them," she said. "It was someone else. He took us so far away you'd never be able to find us, not in two hundred years. I had to fight to save my own life." She lifted her shirt, showing the white scar across her abdomen, her sister gasping in response to what she saw. "I was tortured. Do you get it? I was subjected to horrors they don't even teach the Seals, and if it wasn't for Jim, I would have _died_. How's that for nonsense?"

"Maybe we should all calm down," Rachel tried to placate, tentatively stepping between the groups. She knew her parents, and she knew her sister. Their stubbornness would beat against one another until someone broke, and it wouldn't be pretty when that happened.

"Rachel, go to your room," Margaret ordered.

"Like hell I will," she growled, stepping up next to her sister, McCoy barely containing his smirk. "Charlie's back, and I have a feeling these guys brought her back. So you're going to punish them for it?"

"Insubordination, in my house," Robert growled. "I raised you both better than this."

"No, you raised us to be mindless drones," Charlie snapped. "Well I've learned to think for myself. I've accomplished things you've only ever dreamed of, and it's because of the people behind me. They believed in me."

"Doing what?" Robert interrogated. "Getting yourself caught? Tortured? Where were you doing all these 'amazing things' when you should have been here to keep the vigil."

"Robert!" Margaret warned, flickering her eyes between Charlie and her husband.

"The what?" Charlie asked, Rachel shrugging her shoulders.

"It doesn't matter now. You've failed us, and you've failed this family. I'm going to go get the officers. Let them sort this out."

Charlie expected Jim, or Bones, or even Scotty with his rough-and-tumble Scottish attitude to stop her father. Their hackles had all been raised, as evident by the grumbling happening behind her. Instead, it was the stoic Vulcan who calmly walked in front of her father, his hands clasped behind his back. They stood toe to toe, Spock only an inch taller than her father. As usual, he displayed no emotion, but a flash of steel in his dark gaze told Charlie all she needed to know; her father was in deep trouble.

"While the need to find retribution for your daughter's unexpected absence is admirable, the course which you have chosen is illogical."

"Get out of my way." Robert would have had an easier time moving a break wall. Spock merely raised an unapologetic brow, his gaze taking in the man trying unsuccessfully to shove him aside.

"I would not fight me, you will lose."

Robert finally gave up with a huff. "And who the hell do you think you are?"

"A friend to your daughter."

Admiration for Spock grew in her chest. They had shared a powerful connection when Jim died, and although they never spoke about it after, an understanding developed between them. Charlie counted Spock as a friend, and a mentor, and although he never reciprocated such emotions to her verbally, his actions transmitted it clear as day.

"She speaks the truth," he continued. "We did not remove her from your world, however we endeavored to allow her to make her own choices, and grow as she wished. A statement counterintuitive to yours. We are not her enemy. Therefore, we are not yours."

"Then why did you never bring her back? She belongs with her family," Margaret argued.

"She belongs where she wishes," Spock answered, shifting his attention to her mother. "You treat her as an adolescent when she is an adult. You speak of her, about her, but not to her. I find your response to your child distant. Why is that?"

Silence fell on the group, the ticking of a clock the only sound. Slowly, Jim stepped up next to Charlie, his strong hand grasping hers while the words she had always wanted to say came from the logical Vulcan's lips. Charlie squeezed back, the rushing in her ears beginning to quiet as his warm strength flowed into her. He promised he'd be there for her.

Robert Noland deflated before their eyes, a realization dawning that Charlie had never seen before. He almost seemed reflective, his eyes turned inward but like a shot it was gone, replaced by more suspicion.

"If you didn't take Charlie, then who are you? Why didn't you have her let us know she was ok?" Rachel broke the silence, her moss eyes searching the group for an answer.

Spock reached up and removed the band wrapped around his forehead, his slanted brows and pointed ears revealed to Charlie's family. Each member took an unconscious step back with a gasp, their eyes betraying them. "I am Commander Spock, second in command of the starship _Enterprise_ from the Terran year 2261. To your 21st century understanding I am an . . . Alien. I believe Miss Aldridge and Miss Turner spoke to you about us, although you did not have confidence in their account. It appears I present adequate proof to their claims."

The silence was a roar within the house. Never had Charlie seen her parents so flabbergasted, so inept at coming up with any response. They also knew the answers, knew what was going to happen before anyone else did, but for the first time in Charlie's life, she saw her parents genuinely surprised.

"I knew it," Rachel gasped, her eyes the size of saucers. "I knew there was something familiar about you all," she added pointing between the group. "I was just too excited to have my sister back to realize what it was."

"Oh great," McCoy grumbled. "Are we about to get it from her too?"

The crew looked awkwardly among each other. Only an hour before had they learned they were in a universe that regarded them as characters in a show. It was one thing for Charlie to see them that way, it was completely different for her family.

"Rachel, just calm down," Charlie tried to soothe. "They're just realizing where they are now. We can discuss later—"

"Are you kidding?" Rachel interrupted, her face lighting up into a grin. "This is the coolest thing that's happened since I got accepted to the Academy."

"This can't be real," Margaret said, her seafoam gaze widened in shock and her hand covering her mouth. As a high-ranking intelligence officer, there wasn't much she wasn't briefed on. Most of the time she knew what was going to happen before they had even thought of it. The crew standing in her living room went far beyond anything her extensive training prepared her for.

"Oh, we're real all right," McCoy griped, crossing his arms with a huff. "real annoyed by all this bullshit."

"Bones," Jim warned with a side glare, his attention never leaving Charlie's dad.

"This is horseshit," Robert exploded after a minute, his face becoming red. "You can't tell me that this . . . this _story_ is plausible! So, you've has some cosmetic work done to make us believe this shit, and got your story lined up, but that doesn't change the fact that what you would have this family accept is physically impossible! There is no space travel, there are no aliens, and there is no proof that other universes exist."

"But Dad, look," Rachel said, grabbing a film cover from the bookcase next to the television. "It's them- it's _him!"_

Rachel held up the cover for all to see. There on the front was a picture of Spock and Jim with the Golden Gate Bridge. But they were as Charlie knew them from her timeline, not the group that stood before them now. However, there was enough of a resemblance that one could make the argument that those standing before the Noland family were in fact the younger versions of the crew of the starship _Enterprise,_ brought somehow into their universe.

Robert's gaze kept jumping back and forth between the imagine of prime universe Spock on the cover of the DVD and the Vulcan standing in their living room. His eyes then roamed over the rest of the group, as if finally seeing them for the first time. He took in the scowling McCoy and Sulu, the awkward Scotty, Uhura's glare, and finally Jim holding his daughter's hand and frowning. He growled then, his eyes narrowed until Charlie unconsciously dropped Jim's hand, her face heating.

He harrumphed, still glaring but there was a distinctive deflation in his anger.

"Alright then, Charlotte," he began, turning to address Charlie. "Convince me that what you're saying is true. Where the hell have you been, and how in God's name did you get there?"

Charlie looked to the group, the tension starting to ease as Robert opened the first chance to explain what happened. Muscles relaxed around eyes and mouths, and shoulders relaxed. She last caught Jim's cerulean stare as gave her a small smile, purposefully taking her hand again.

"Why don't we all sit down," he said, gesturing for her parents to take the arm chairs on either side of the fire as he led Charlie towards the couch. "Discuss this like adults."

Both Margaret and Robert were hesitant, but did as instructed, interested enough now to be willing to listen. Charlie moved to the middle of the grey couch, her back straight as she sat on the edge. Jim sat to her right, his arm draped around the back while McCoy took her left, still sizing her father up. The others filled in around, including Rachel, but Spock remained standing between the group and the door.

Charlie took a breath, trying to figure out where to start, so many images from the past few years flashing across her memories.

"It happened in Bristol," she began, speaking between her parents and sister with her thoughts turned inward. "Philly, Kate and I had met up in a park one afternoon to go over dissertation plans. We had just met up, barely even got a chance to talk when the next thing we knew, a giant, whirling, black . . . mass opened below us, and we fell through." She shrugged, remembering the lurching in her stomach as she gawked at the maelstrom. "The next thing I remember, I was waking up in a crater in the middle of a forest. When I tried figure out what time it was by the sun, I noticed there were two moons flanking it. Well, as you can imagine, we all freaked out.

"Kate and Philly were taking it the hardest. I mean don't get me wrong, I was terrified by what I was seeing, but at least I had some training to handle intensive situations," she nodded toward her parents. Margaret had a concentrated look on her face, absorbing the information presented to her, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Robert had leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he listened intently. "To figure out what the hell was going on, I led us into the woods. Maybe we had hit our heads, or something made us hallucinate. Could have been some stupid prank someone decided to play on us. We didn't know. But after a few hours, we caught up with another group in those woods, and I realized we were in bigger trouble than I thought. That's when we found the crew."

"What she didn't tell you is that the group they found were a bunch of Klingons," Jim interrupted, trying to hide his pride. After the exchange he saw, and what Charlie had told him previously, he wanted to make sure Robert and Margaret knew the capabilities of their daughter, even if they couldn't see it themselves. "So you understand, Klingons are a warrior race. They're an enemy of the Federation, and we've had a few . . . run ins with them in the past. Charlie took on three of them by herself and won, saving my away team. And me."

"That's because my sister is a BAMF!" Rachel acknowledged excitedly.

"BAMF?" Uhura asked, confused by the vernacular.

"I'll tell you later," Charlie grinned, her soft smile moving to Jim. "And we saved each other. Anyway, that's how we ended up on the _Enterprise._ "

"You mentioned someone before," Margaret said. "How does he play into this?"

"Yeah. The guy who did all this was a madman, pissed off at Starfleet for something beyond their control," Charlie spat, remembering her encounters.

"Not wrong there," McCoy added with a sneer.

Taking a breath, Charlie continued. "His name was Sagan and he was a physicist with a focus in temporal anomalies. It's how this whole thing started. See, their universe isn't the one we know. It's not the same as the shows or the movies. It's different because something happened that changed their timeline. Sagan believed that because of that, and what was used in order to create it, he could control the manipulation of time, and therefore the universe itself. He had a student, a protégé who figured out how to recreate it. But when he realized what Sagan wanted, he tried to hide his research."

"So why did this guy need you?" Rachel asked.

"Because the one who engineered everything's name was Dr. Noland-Spear. Sagan thought he was related to us, and the way Dr. Spear encrypted the information, mitochondrial DNA is needed to open it. Sagan thought my blood had that connection."

"But it didn't," Margaret said.

Charlie shook her head. "No. I don't know if it was because I came from an alternative universe to his, or if he had set it up that only his would work and no one else's. But it didn't."

"Cor unum," Robert finally acknowledged, nodding his head in understanding.

"Cor unum," the rest of the family answered in unison, Charlie included.

"We had enough of the new red matter – what was used to kidnap us – to send Kate and Phillipa back," Charlie continued. "But there wasn't enough for me too. So, I stayed behind and sent them home.

"That's why I couldn't tell you where I was. Why you couldn't find me. I was two hundred years in the future in a completely different universe. But just so you know, I was happy there. I had the ship, and the crew, and a new life that would actually make you proud. I was in the top ten percent of my class at Starfleet Academy." Charlie directed that last part to her dad, hoping that maybe, he'd see something out of her.

"So how'd you come back?" Rachel tried to hide the hurt from her sister's admission. She knew Charlie had never seem to fit in their family, but she was still her older sister, and no matter what, she loved her

"We don't know," Jim admitted. "We're trying to figure that out."

There were nods and mumbles of agreement from the crew. Charlie found her hands had ended up folded in her lap, squeezing together in a white knuckled grip as she waited for their judgment.

"Robert, go tell the sheriff his services are not required," Margaret ordered after a moment of silence.

"Peg, I'm not entirely convinced—"

"Well I am," a note of finality in her tone. "I know when people are lying to me. They're not. Our daughter is not. These people saved our child. They protected her and gave her a home and a family. I believe them, and I will not have them punished because you don't have someone to blame."

"What happened to Sagan," Robert asked, gesturing to his wife he wanted one more question answered."

"Dr Sagan took his own life," Spock said. "He left instructions on how to get Miss Noland and her friends back to your timeline and then ingested a poison he hid on his person after we apprehended him. He will no longer be a threat to her."

Robert sat a moment longer, interrogating the group without a sound. He was looking for weakness, a break in the chain. He saw none of that, but he wasn't convinced either with their story, no matter how much his wife believed it. It was too unbelievable.

"Fine. I'll go tell the officers we sorted it out. I'll owe Jerry for this, he sent his best to handle this for us." He stood up and stomped out the door, not even grabbing a jacket as it slammed behind him.

Charlie let out the breath just didn't know she was holding, her forehead falling into her hand as the headache that had been brewing behind her eyes decided to explode.

"You know your father missed you, Charlotte," her mother remarked, McCoy barely able to hide a snort. "He did this because he was concerned about you. We had hoped you would continue . . . well it doesn't matter anymore."

"Continue what?" Charlie asked, lifting her head as she massaged her temples.

"It doesn't matter now," she reiterated, more to herself than anyone else while she went to check that the sheriff officers were on their way.

"You know Dad doesn't believe you," Rachel commented matter-of-factly.

"Rachel Lynn!" Margaret snapped, turning to glare as her youngest.

"What?" she shrugged. "It's true."

"But you guys believe us, right?" Charlie searched their eyes for any hint of doubt.

"I wasn't lying to you, Charlotte," Margaret allayed. "I don't understand how it happened, but I see the loyalty you all have. I see the relationships between you. That cannot be faked. That type of loyalty doesn't develop from a sense of fear, but through trust. I believe you saved my daughter. And as a mother, I can never repay you for that." She looked directly at Jim. "Thank you."

He nodded in understanding, feeling some of the tension ease in the room. They had at least two allies now.

The door slammed again as Robert came back in, grumbling to himself. "They're gone. Took some convincing, but they're headed back down the hill."

"Thank you, Colonel," Charlie responded.

"This doesn't mean you're off the hook," he pointed without much heat. "We have other things to talk about. Especially you, Sir," his glare moved to a surprised Jim. "I've got a few bones to pick with you. I don't care what you did, that's still my daughter and we're gonna sit down, just you and me. Discuss this like men."

"Dad!" Charlie scolded, while the crew chuckled silently.

Jim had the decency to try to hide the smile that was threatening to form. He'd heard of the old customs between the father and boyfriend, some of the old films that survived WWIII displaying them in all their outdated humor. He just never expected to see it for himself.

"Yes, Sir."

A ringing began filling the house, both Robert and Margaret's cell phones chiming incessantly from their hips.

Robert sent one last glare at Jim before he answered, "Colonel here."

Ignoring the crew, he made his way toward the office just as Margaret answered her own.

"Noland speaking. Yes, I'm aware. How's it progressing?" She disappeared after her husband, the door closing with a snap.

"Guys, I'm . . . sorry," Charlie said, her gaze on the folded hands in her lap as her cheeks heated. "I was embarrassed about it, and it was my own fault for not telling you. I'm sorry I went off on you like that."

"Ach, lass, no harm done," Scotty spoke good naturally.

"He's right," Uhura agreed. "It's definitely weird, but you're one of us now. It actually explains a lot."

"We love you," Jim added, tilting Charlie's chin up to gain her attention. "Even when you go crazy on us."

Charlie grinned, realizing that this was how a family should be. Yes, there were arguments, but there was forgiveness too.

"Spock?" Uhura said. "What is it?"

The crew all turned to Spock whose attention hadn't moved from the closed study door, his head tilted to the side in concentration.

"I believe we should retire downstairs, for I'm not sure what I just heard."

"What's he got super hearing?" Rachel asked skeptically, her arms crossing as she regarding the Vulcan.

"Actually, yea," Charlie stated matter-of-factly. "Vulcans had more acute hearing than us. This one picks up what's said on the other side of room, although he still doesn't hear sarcasm."

"I understand the premise of sarcasm," Spock argued. "I fail to understand the logic of it."

"Spock, I told you. I can teach you."

"Well you are fluent, Spitfire," McCoy grumbled, eyeing the cabinet in the corner holding her father's prized whiskey collection.

Rachel burst out laughing, practically doubled over with mirth.

"That is not a concern right now." Spock eyed the youngest Noland, one brow raised toward the ceiling. "I'm afraid there is something of greater importance."

"What is it Spock?" Jim asked as he stood, the tone his first officer used setting him on edge.

"I am not certain. But I believe they were discussing the development of . . . augments."

* * *

*grins evilly*


	5. Chapter Five: Bitter Memories

**Chapter Five: Bitter Memories**

The room chilled instantly. Jim stiffened behind her, and she knew what he was thinking. What they were all thinking. A flash of piercing green eyes, and ice like she's never felt flooded her veins in the memory. Charlie turned to her sister, her palms going sweaty as whispering broke out all around.

"Rachel, where do our parents work right now?" Her eyes were the size of saucers as she instinctually turned towards Jim, her hand seeking his. They held each other in vice grip, neither one needing to tell the other what they already knew.

"Cheyenne mountain." Rachel skeptically regarded the group, her brows drawn down in confusion. "Why?"

Charlie nearly jerked in surprise. "The Colonel's not at the Academy?"

"He's on sabbatical, working on a special project with mom. They can't talk about it. 'Classified'," she added her fingers making the quotes sign in the air. "You know, the norm."

"From the way the conversation seems to be developing," Spock cut in before Charlie could snap at her sister. "I do not believe this would fall under your term of normal."

A second later, the door to the study burst open, Margaret and Robert hurrying out.

"We have to go into the office. Here, Rachel," Margaret said in a rush, thrusting a few bills into her hands. "Order pizza or something for tonight. I'm afraid your father and I will be late."

"Mom, what's going on?" Charlie tried to ask, her father jumping up the stairs two at a time.

"Charlotte, you know this. We cannot discuss our work. We'll be late. That is all you need to know."

Margaret was clearly distracted, her attention more on grabbing her keys and throwing her arms into the jacket she grabbed from the closet. Robert came back down moments later in his blue uniform with his multitude of bars and emblems displayed.

They were out in a flourish, the snap of the door echoing around the house and causing the dogs to begin barking.

"Well that was different," Scotty remarked offhandedly. "Do they got good pizza around here?"

"Mr. Scott, do you ever not think about food?" Sulu questioned exasperated.

"Wha'? A man's got ta eat."

"Yeah, we'll worry about that later," Jim stepped in before the argument could escalate, turning to regard the crew who stood around the living room just as worried as he was. "What I'm more concerned about is what Spock just said."

"What are you guys talking about?" Rachel asked slowly. "That's normal for my parents. They're in the military, and what they do they can't really talk about. Charlie, tell them."

"It's not that, Rachel," Charlie answered, understanding the magnitude of their situation. "If Spock's right, and he heard them talking about augments, we've got to do something." The others nodded in agreement, although Spock was still speculative.

"Like what?" her sister snapped. "I don't know what an augment is, but you can't just go waltzing into the Mountain and expect Mom and Dad to just drop whatever it is they're working on. You're not that important."

Charlie let the last comment go, although her words stung worse than she'd care to admit to. "Rachel, remember Wrath of Khan?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"K, well we met him," she snapped back. "And let me tell you it was not all sunshine and rainbows. Nothing could ever prepare you from meeting that man and the destruction he caused. I thought we were lucky because we didn't have to deal with that here. At least I thought we didn't."

"We must also remember the prime directive," Spock added.

Charlie turned to the Vulcan, her eyes narrowed. "What about the prime directive, Spock? We're not in a fledgling planet, nor are we in your universe."

"But we can still alter the course of this universe."

"Spock may have a point, Charlie," Jim reluctantly admitted, his hand reaching up to rub his neck. "Us being here could have consequences that we don't even understand. You said so yourself; there are people in this world that walk, and talk like us. If we were to be mistaken for them, there could be serious repercussions."

"But we're not going to let them create monsters, are we?" Uhura retorted. "We saw what Khan was capable of. Imagine an army of him."

"Ach! but they were able ta defeat 'em, remember?" Scotty added. "Her dad did it! And I see how." He shivered then.

"Charlie, what are they talking about?" Rachel cut in.

Charlie sighed, running a hand through her dark hair, remembering too many memories. "When I was back in their time, we came across Khan and in talking to him, I found out that our family existed in their universe. Like us; me, you, Bry, and our parents. Except that the Colonel wasn't an engineer. He was in combat as a general and he was the one that defeated the augments."

"Cool," she nodded. Then after a pause, Rachel added frustratedly, "What's an augment? I mean I've seen Wrath of Khan, but like once."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Think super humans. Stronger, faster, smarter. The whole deal. And with definite superiority complex."

"Like Tony Stark?"

"Times a thousand."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. That's why we've got to find out if that's what they're are working on. I can't leave knowing that you'd guys could be in serious danger. Not if I can stop it."

"What do you mean leave?"

"Charlie, we should be trying to find a way home," Jim tried to argue, stepping in front of her and grabbing her shoulders. "We're not here to interfere. We need to get back and figure out what happened at the ceremony." His blue gaze was contrite, his thumbs stroking her sweater.

"Jim, if my parents are working on developing augments, they'll get it figured out. I can't . . . I won't let that happen. My dad here is not the same one from our timeline. He's brilliant in engineering, but not so much on the battle strategy if you haven't noticed. He and my mom will develop augments and then not be able to control them.

"Besides," she continued, interrupting Jim before he had a chance to respond and dodging out of his hold to address the crew. "Cheyenne Mountain is one of the most sophisticated bases in the country. They have technologies that outweigh anything outside the Pentagon. If there's a way to figure out how to get back, it would be there."

"The lass 'as a point, albeit a small one," Scotty interjected hesitantly. "Military of this time had more sophisticated technologies than their private counterparts. We'd 'ave a better chance ta get home if I got me hands on one 'o them bases."

"Exactly," Charlie said. "Peterson's really small, Fort Carson's focus is more on training and Buckley's too far away in Aurora and way out in the open. Cheyenne mountain is the site for NORAD. It's perfect."

"It's also some of the most fortified, in case you forgot, Charlie," Rachel argued, her green eyes flashing. "You can't just waltz in. It's _in_ a freaking mountain. And what do you mean leave? You're staying, aren't you?"

It was Charlie's turn to look contrite, her shoulders slumping as she reached out for her sister who sidestepped her reach.

"Rachel, I don't belong here."

"What do you mean you don't belong here?! You were born here!"

Charlie sighed, looking to Jim for help. He just gave a small, understanding smile but his eyes told her this was something they needed to discuss. Alone.

"We'll head downstairs," he said. "You guys need to talk."

He kissed her cheek, then proceeded over to the stairs. The crew filed out behind their captain, and as Sulu shut the door to the basement behind him, Charlie turned back to her sister. Rachel's arms were crossed across her chest, and her eyes were narrowed to slits.

"Did you ever think I was born in the wrong time?" Charlie asked softly.

"That's stupid."

Charlie closed her eyes and counted to ten slowly. She knew her sister was hurt, and that she didn't understand. But Rachel was the favorite, whether her parents admitted to it or not, and she never had to experience the same level of dissatisfaction as Charlie.

"It's not," Charlie patiently argued. "You didn't see me there. You didn't see how much I flourished. I excelled in all my classes like I already knew them, the culture was so easy for me to adapt to, and even with all the hell I went through, I gained a support network I've never had here. I'm so happy there, Rachel. I have friends, and a purpose, and Jim. I almost gave all that up to come back here but I couldn't. I'm part of something bigger, and I can't just walk away."

"Now you're being selfish," Rachel spat.

"Who's the one being selfish?" Charlie retorted, her hands moving to her hips. "I just told you I am the happiest I've ever been in my life there, and you want me to stay? After what you just witnessed?"

Her lip protruded out and tears filled her eyes. Although her sister was now nineteen, and well on her way to becoming her own person, Charlie still disappeared when Rachel was only fifteen. There was still a lot of growing she had to do, and a lot that as her big sister, Charlie missed.

"But I thought _we_ were fine. We're sisters, aren't we?" she sniffed, glancing away. "I thought you loved me."

"Rachel, I do love you." Charlie groaned, running a hand through her hair in agitation. Walking over, she captured her sister in a hug. Rachel might have been a good four inches taller than her, but Charlie still tucked her sister's head under her chin. "Don't think for one second I don't love you. You'll always be my baby sister, and I missed you so much when I was gone. This has nothing to do with you, ok? If I could have here what I have there, believe me, I'd never leave. But this isn't home anymore, and I have to do what's best for me."

Rachel sniffed, and ran a hand under her nose. "I know. I know you're happy. I've never seen you like this before. But I missed you. You're my big sister and there's things I can only talk to you about. I don't want to lose that."

Charlie rubbed Rachel's back, turning to hold her at arm's length. "I'm not promising it won't be hard. Trust me, the decision I made to stay with the _Enterprise_ was not an easy one. But already I've helped to save Earth. Twice. It goes bigger than me and you. I think, through some divine intervention, I'm meant to be there."

Rachel paused a minute, her green eyes searching her sister's brown. "Does he make you happy? Does he take care of you?"

Charlie smiled. "We take care of each other."

Rachel nodded, her eyes red, but no tears shed. "Good. I'd kick his ass if he didn't."

Charlie laughed, throwing her arm around her sister's shoulders. "And I'd put my money on you. But it's time to go downstairs and start figuring this out. We've got two hundred years' worth of knowledge that'll get us into the Mountain. We better start planning now.

"And just remember. You're my sister. No matter what century I'm in, I'll always love you."

* * *

"So, there are only two ways onto the base. Here and here."

Charlie had the crew gathered around the flat screen television in the basement, a large satellite map of the Colorado Springs area blown up on the screen. With Rachel's help, she had managed to hook up her sister's laptop to the TV and project the images for the crew to see and discuss.

"What's this?" McCoy asked, pointing to the screen when they had started.

"Uh, google maps?" Charlie answered with a shrug. "It's what we have to work with. Anyway, the point is, I think we may have a better chance at this entrance here, on the southside. It looks more of an access tunnel than the main gate."

"Still going to be hard to get in without any phasers," Sulu pointed out.

"Or transporters," Scotty added. "Ach, how did ya survive this long lassie?"

Charlie tried to hide her smile, rolling her eyes internally.

"We got by. But Sulu raises a good point about fire power. I think the less we have the better, as counterintuitive as it seems. Especially since of the two entrances—"

"Three."

Charlie turned as her sister made her way down the stairs, laden with several boxes of pizza. "What?"

McCoy and Sulu both jumped up to help her lay out the pies on the various surfaces, taking time to breath in their delicious aroma.

"There's three entrances," Rachel continued, rubbing her hands on her pant leg.

Confused, Charlie turned back to the screen, her head tilted as she analyzed the terrain. "Where? I only see the two."

"That's because the third one is hidden."

"And how have you come to possess such knowledge?" Spock asked turning from the couch, curiously regarding the young woman.

Rachel smirked and crossed her arms, an eerily similar characteristic to another Noland. "Being the daughter of two high ranking airmen and top of her freshman class at the Academy has its benefits. Here, let me see the mouse."

Rachel shoved Scotty over who had been manning the computer – or stone aged rock as he called it. Grabbing the mouse, she maneuvered the screen northwest, several radio towers and buildings coming into view on a rise above the entrance to the air base.

"See here. There's about a dozen radio towers. Most of them are commercial or local stations – PBS and the like. But see this building here," she pointed to one standing off in the trees, removed from the other cluster. "If you're up there it only says service building. Most people think it's for all the conductors for the other towers, so they don't interfere. What they don't know is there's also an access tunnel to the heart of Cheyenne Mountain."

"Well I be damned," McCoy gruffly drawled.

"And we could get in undetected?" Jim asked.

Rachel grabbed a slice of pizza as the others began to devour the pies. "I don't know about undetected, but you would have the element of surprise. It's a maintenance tunnel, so they have some safeguards, but not like the other two. It being a secret is its greatest defense."

"How the hell do you know this?" Charlie protested.

"Hey, you chose not to go to the Academy," she shrugged in response, shoving the pizza into her mouth. Crewing greedily, she added out of the side of her mouth, "Dad's got connections. Good ones." She swallowed. "I've been able to see all kinds of shit."

"This appears to be a better option," Spock agreed with a dip of his head.

"Maybe," Charlie chewed her bottom lip. "I'd like to see it for myself though, before we start the hostile takeover."

"Might not be a bad idea," Uhura agreed. "Survey the land so we know what to expect."

"How many people fit in your car, Rach?" Charlie turned towards her sister.

"Five total, including me. I could throw someone in the trunk."

"What do you mean in the trunk?!" McCoy practically shouted.

Charlie laughed at his outrageous response. "Relax, McCoy, I know what she means. You got the stuck with the Wrangler, didn't you?"

Rachel grinned. "Yeah. All 200,000 miles of her."

"I don't understand how that car hasn't died yet," Charlie shook her head. "Ok, first thing in the morning, Rachel, me, Jim, Spock, Scotty, and whoever wants to volunteer in the trunk can go scout out the site. Deal?"

There were nods of agreement around the room, although no one spoke up for the coveted trunk position. Charlie glanced over to Jim, a small smile of assurance in response. At least they had a plan.

* * *

That night was one of the most fun Charlie could ever remember with the crew. Now that they had a plan, they were able to relax and enjoy their time at Charlie's home. Games like Clue and Cards Against Humanity were played (although some was lost on Spock) while Rachel introduced them to shows like Family Guy and Futurama, both of which were instant favorites.

Charlie's parents arrived soon after midnight. Only Charlie and Jim were still up in the basement, quietly speaking in the corner wrapped in blankets when they heard the thumping of feet and the bark followed by the quick "shhh" of a dog.

"Seems late, even for them," Jim whispered.

Charlie just shrugged. "Honestly, I've been gone so long, I don't know what's normal."

"What about before Bristol?" Jim asked.

Charlie just shook her head, pulling the blanket tighter across her shoulders. "I was either on a dig, at boarding school back east, in class at Greeley, or riding these hills with Spirit. I was honestly just wrapped up in me, and now that I look back on it, avoiding them."

Jim nodded, his gaze distant. "I guess I can relate. In high school when I wasn't in class, I was ducking my Uncle Frank and just getting into trouble around town."

"You? Getting into trouble? Pfft, no way." There was a sparkle to Charlie's eye as she teased Jim. He grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. With shrug he added, "it was hard not having my mom around because she was always off planet, and Sam left when he was sixteen. For a while it was me and Frank."

"He didn't . . . abuse you, did he?" Charlie had wanted to broach the subject several times over the course of their relationship but didn't know how. Jim never spoke of his childhood. It was as if he wasn't someone until he stepped on that shuttlecraft after Pike's dare.

"No." Jim was vehement, his voicing rising. Realizing his hand was squeezing the mug so hard cracks were beginning to form, he relaxed and quietly added, "he never hit me. Verbally, yeah, I guess. I never really thought about it. I just had no direction, and Frank could never give it to me."

"What about your mom?"

Jim shrugged. "She really wasn't a lot of help at that time. We patched things up after Nero, when she thought she lost me too. But they're still bitter memories."

Charlie nodded in understand, staring out the window as more snow began to fall again. "Yeah. Bitter memories."

"We'd better get some sleep," Jim added after a moment. "Prepare for tomorrow."

By the time they groggily opened their eyes the next morning, Charlie's parents were already gone, and another three inches of snow coated the ground.

The team that planned to do the recon gathered in the kitchen, jackets, hats, and scarves passed all around on that wintery day.

"Sure you can drive in this?" Jim questioned Rachel as she sat tying her snow boots.

"Please, Captain," she scoffed, using the title she'd taken to calling him. "I got my license during a snow storm and had to drive up to Breckenridge the next day. This is nothing."

"Don't worry, Jim," Charlie added, pulling her gloves on over her hands. "We were raised driving in the mountains in all weather. The only reason I'm not is my license is expired and the less media attention we draw to ourselves because I've magically shown up again, the better."

"Sure, you don't want me to go with you?" McCoy added, skeptically glancing among the group. "You know, in case something happens?"

"Are they always this square?" Rachel growled at Charlie as she glared at McCoy.

"I fail to see how a geometric figure applies to this situation," Spock said as Uhura fit a trapper hat over his brows and ears.

Charlie and Rachel burst out laughing. "She means are you always lame. You know, boring," Charlie managed between giggles. "Sorry, 21st century vernacular."

Spock raised one brow and nodded his head slowly, but they could tell he still didn't understand. Uhura quietly began explaining it as the rest finished throwing on warm clothes.

They headed out into the cold, winter day, the driveway uncleared and showing one set of tire tracks down toward the main road. Rachel hopped into the driver's seat of the old Jeep Wrangler that each Noland sibling had position of in one time or another. Charlie took shotgun, while Jim, Spock and Scotty squeezed themselves into the back seat, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Scotty was grumbling in the middle, while Spock and Jim each stared out the opposite windows.

As they hit road, and came down into Colorado Springs proper, Charlie couldn't believe how much the land had changed. Shopping centers and housing developments had sprung up when before it was open land. Prices were higher than she'd ever seen, and the traffic felt like it had increased tenfold. Once they were on the main roads, the slush of the snow had already melted, steam rising as the sun shone on the black pavement, but it didn't stop the beauty that was her hometown.

Scotty kept making surprised sounds by what he was seeing, asking question about why that pickup just spewed out black smoke, or what those random towers were with tree branches trying to hide their appearance. Charlie patiently explained it all, pointing out places they'd used to go to as kids, the parks they'd hand out at or the local drive in movie theatre.

They turned towards the zoo, then made the next right, heading toward the switch back road that would lead them to the radio towers. But as the road turned from pavement to dirt, they hit a roadblock. A very icy one.

Rachel skid to a halt at the closed gate, barring them from travelling further.

"Shit, they must have closed it because of the snow."

Charlie unlocked her seat belt and stepped out of the Jeep, Jim following her as they walked up to the gate. Charlie spun around, her hand blocking the sun as she checked out the terrain.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Hey Rach! Think we could get the trailer up here?" she called to her sister.

Rachel opened her door and stood on the rails, looking around at the open space.

"Yeah, there should be room to get it in here and turned around. Why?"

Charlie turned to Jim, an idea forming. "I'm thinking if we can get the trailer up here, we can continue on horseback to the summit."

"Horseback?!" Scotty exclaimed. "I'm no' getting' on one of those beasts."

"Well, what choice have we got, Scotty?" Charlie argued. "From here it's probably at least a four to five hour hike up there. The horses would cut that down to two. Even with inexperienced riders."

"If we can get close to the Broadmoor camp, I can lead you over the ridge, cut off at least half the ride," Rachel added, leaning on the open door.

"No, you're not coming on this, Rachel," Charlie ordered. "I'll need your help getting the horses here, but then we're on our own."

"Like hell you are," Rachel snapped. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not, and that's final," Charlie barked, Scotty and Jim's brows rising at the steel in her voice. "What we're doing is dangerous, illegal, and I'm not going to have it ruin your career if we get caught."

"How are you going to know which building it is? How are you going to know the code? What about when you get it? When was the last time you were there?"

"We're smart, we'll figure it out."

"Miss Rachel raises some valid points," Spock acknowledged. "Her help would be advantageous to us."

"I said no," Charlie asserted. "I'm not having my baby sister get mixed up with this. End of story." Charlie stomped back to the jeep, slamming the door shut with a snap and Rachel following suit. The men could hear them continuing to argue within the vehicle.

"That lass needs a good talkin' to," Scotty remarked crossing his arms. "And I know how she can be, but we need 'er sister."

"I agree with Mister Scott," Spock dipped his head. "Having the younger Noland along would increase our chances of success."

Jim sighed, reaching up to rub his eyes. "I know. I know. I'll try to talk to her."

"The best of luck ta ya," Scotty clapped Jim on the back as he started walking back to the car, the yelling having ceased but the silence tense even from where they stood. "Lord know yer gonna need it."

"Thanks," Jim added deprecatingly.

The ride back the house was silent and strained. Neither sister spoke to the other. Charlie's arms were crossed, and Jim was sure he could hear her teeth grinding in agitation. The minute the tires stopped on the drive, Charlie was out and stomping toward the stables. Rachel followed suit but headed to the house, doors slamming all around.

"What the hell happened?" McCoy asked, once the other three were back inside. Rachel was nowhere to be seen. "One minute I'm trying to figure out how that damn coffee pot works, and the next doors are crashing, causing those dogs to go berserk."

"Charlie told Rachel she wasn't coming with us," Jim told McCoy.

McCoy's brow rose in surprise. "I've noticed the family resemblance in those two. I take it the younger Spitfire didn't take it well."

"The gorn were more civil," Scotty snorted.

"I'm going to go talk to Charlie," Jim muttered as headed out the back and down the deck stairs.

He found her in the stable, leaning against the door to Spirit's stall, a carrot in one hand as she stroked the tan neck with the other. Spirit's neighbor, a black gelding stuck his head out as Jim approached, the captain absently brushing his hand down his forehead while his attention remained on Charlie.

"I know she's your sister, but we need her."

Charlie's head dipped, leaning against the horse before she took a breath and turned to Jim. "We can figure it out without her getting mixed up in this."

"Maybe. But she would make it easier."

"Just because it's easy, doesn't make it right."

"Charlie. Stop and think. We need her. You're the one that wants to get into that base so bad."

"But not at the cost of my family, Jim," Charlie snapped, Spirit jumping in surprise. "I won't risk my little sister."

"She's a cadet, going through trainings like you, and look what you did before you were even in the Academy."

"This is different."

"It's not, and you know it's not. We're not going to let something happen to her. I promise." Charlie sighed and began pacing. "She been there," he continued. "She knows what security measures they have, where things are located. I hate to quote the Vulcan, but it's logical."

"Ok!" Charlie shouted. Taking a breath, her eyes shining with the true fear she'd only let Jim see. "Ok. But I want your word. If you have to choose to save me, or save Rachel, you take my sister first."

"Charlie—"

"Swear it."

"I won't," Jim practically yelled back. "I won't choose anyone over you. Ever." He frustratingly ran his hand through his hair. "I'll have Bones keep an eye on her. Alright?"

Charlie thought a moment before Spirit nudged her, throwing her off balance. "Ok. Fine."

"Good. Let's go ready for tonight."

* * *

The horses were all saddled and loaded as the afternoon wore on. Charlie, Jim, McCoy, and Rachel worked in silence to get the horses ready; they the only ones familiar enough to know what to do. Scotty and Sulu were able to modify the tricorder to omit a low stun should anyone find them who they didn't want, and Uhura and Spock were able to fashion several communication devices from old cell phones that wouldn't be picked up by any of the base's receivers.

Snow was beginning to fall again as the crew met outside, the long horse trailer attached to the pickup.

"Ok, we can only take four at a time," Charlie began as the crew circled round. "Rachel will take—"

Just then, two vehicles spun up the drive, coming to a halt next to the startled group, Spock quickly donning the hat he was given.

Two young men from the first truck and a third from the SUV opened their doors and stood, surveying the group with smiles. The dark-haired driver of the truck caught Charlie's eye and winked, eliciting a low growl from Jim until it clicked to Charlie who it was.

"Little Johnny Dean, is that you?" Charlie smirked crossing her arms and eyeing her blushing sister out of the corner of her eye.

"Yo, Chuck, what's going on?" he answered, his voice far deeper than Charlie remembered.

"Not that it isn't good to see you, but we're about to go on a trail and—"

"Oh, we know. We're here to help."

Charlie paused, his words sinking in before she rounded on Rachel. "What do they mean by help?"

Her sister had the decency to look sheepish. "John, Eric, and Tristen are part of my element at the Academy. The same team," she explained. "I asked them to help us get up there, and they they're going to bring the trailer back until we come back down. We don't want someone finding the truck and wondering why we're going up to the radio towers."

"Rachel, how do we know—"

"You can trust them," Rachel added hastily. "They're part of my squadron. I trust them with my life."

"But do you trust them with our lives," Charlie growled. "You should have consulted me about this."

"Listen, Chuck," Johnny said, jumping down from the truck. Charlie's eyes narrowed, always hating that nickname. "Rachel swore us to silence. We don't know what's going, honestly. We were just told Rachel needed a lift to get everyone to the base of Cheyenne Mountain and to take the truck and trailer back here and wait for her call. That's it."

"Johnny, you're asking me to trust you, and after all the shit I've seen you get into—"

"I know," he cut off, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily. "I was a hellion in high school."

"Still are," his partner added with a grin.

"Shut it, Tristen," he snapped. "Your sister asked us for help. We're a team, we'd do anything for each other and we're gonna to take each other's secrets to the grave."

"They're assistance would make our journey began faster," Spock pointed out.

Charlie surveyed the other two and saw the determination in their eyes. The same type of loyalty and respect she had with her own crew back at her own Academy.

Glancing to the others, Charlie saw subtle nods directed her way. Rounding back on the lanky cadet, she threatened, "I'm going to say this once, Cadet Dean. If I ever get word that you let slip what's going on, you're going to wish you were never born. Got it?"

Johnny glanced over her shoulder and saw the smoldering glare from Jim and swallowed visibly. If Charlie didn't hold to her threat, he knew the guy behind her would. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good, move out."

Everyone loaded into the vehicles, Charlie growling about annoying sisters, and they were off. The caravan reached the base of the mountain in record time, the snow earlier in the day keeping many off the roads. Although the snowpack had increased, the dryness of the air kept it from being a slushy mess, much to the happies of those nervous about travelling by horse.

The boys helped to unload the horses, tying them to the trees as Charlie helped each crew member mount. Each person was assigned their own horse, but Rachel and Charlie had made sure that those who were not experienced in riding were given the calmer, older horses while the experienced riders had the younger, less desensitized ones.

Scotty was the most difficult of all, even though he had the calmest horse they owned. Bruno was as old as dirt, a large grey gelding that plodded more than walked and was more than happy to eat than do anything else. According to Scotty, though, he was a fierce warhorse that was going to throw him off so much as look at him. It took some patient handling from none other than their resident doctor for Scotty to finally be sitting calmly in the saddle.

Once everyone was situated, their cinches tight and their stirrups in the proper place, the crew set out into the bitter cold. Rachel led the group single file off the trail while Charlie brought up the rear.

Spirit wanted to run, tugging at the reigns and stomping her feet in agitation as they climbed uphill. She kept trying to bite Jim's black gelding, and more than once Charlie had to spin her in a circle, keeping the reigns pulled taunt with a sharp command to stop her antics. She knew what her horse wanted, felt the exhilaration hiding just under the surface. Charlie wasn't sure if anyone had ridden her horse while she had been gone – wouldn't have been surprised if Spirit bucked them off if they had tried too. She seemed to be the only person her horse listened to. But even then, Spirit was living up to her name, and it took all her years of training, and muscle memory to keep her horse in line, even if they wanted nothing more than run the trail ahead of them.

Jim had never seen Charlie ride before, and the way she sat in the saddle, the way she handled Spirit's tricks and behaviors, the ease she had reading the signs of the horse impressed him more than he cared to admit. She had a confidence that he'd only seen under pressure, but to see her free of that constraint, and in an element he never expected warmed his heart.

They'd followed the road as it switched back and forth until they came across a stream that fed in from a small valley. This was where Rachel led them off, the footing more uneven, thus taking longer than the previous hour's ride had. Soon though, metal towers could be seen just as the sun began to set, their blinking lights leading the group toward their destination. They reached the top just as the sun went down, the sky aloft with orange, blues, and purples. As the stars came out, Charlie took a breath. It was time.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter Six: Gattaca

**Thank you to all those that have reviewed! And to all those who have favorited/added to alert lists. They really brighten my day when I get those emails :)**

 **Time to ramp it up now!**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Gattaca**

The ground was covered in thick snow at the top of the mountain, the land silent expect for their cloudy breaths. Once there, Rachel led the group over to a lean-to hidden near their target where everyone began to dismount. Uhura and Sulu rubbed their thighs with a grimace while Scotty hobbled around bowlegged, the crew trying to loosed unused muscles. Charlie felt the familiar ache in her thighs, but her sore knees were a surprise. As she tried to dismount, she stumbled when her feet hit the ground, her knees giving out from the force. Jim had just secured his horse when he turned in time to catch her.

"Thanks," she blushed, pushing off Jim and nonchalantly leading Spirit away from the other horses.

The side of Jim's mouth smirked, amused by the red stain to her cheek. "Thought you could ride?" he teased.

"I'm going to hit you," she grumbled without heat. Jim just laughed.

The snow crunched under their boots as they followed Rachel's flashlight over to a metal outbuilding painted a soft tan. The group was undeterred by the giant red sign warning of electrical shock, the door's only fastener a simple bumper lock to keep people out. Soft orange lights illuminated the mountain top near the various radio towers, shadows thrown around as the wind picked up.

"Ok," whispered Rachel. "The minute I open this door, alarms are going to alert the security team that someone's up here. We need to be prepared to move quickly."

"How is the alarm triggered?" Spock asked.

"Magnetic sensor on the inside," she pointed to the upper left corner. "When the contact is broken, it sets off the alert down at security and they switch on the camera. Now, I think if I can kill the sensor lights quickly it might buy us some time."

"That is unnecessary. Mr. Sulu, may I see the tricorder?"

"What do you mean unnecessary?" Rachel blurted. "It's an alarm. Seems pretty important to me."

Spock took the device, and after a few deft key stokes ran it along the perimeter of the door. It beeped a few times before Spock closed it with a snap.

"That should render their security inoperable. You may proceed."

Rachel glanced at the door and then back at Spock. "Bullshit."

"Rach," Charlie exasperatedly rolled her eyes. "Trust him. It's disabled."

Skeptically, Rachel cut the lock off the door, and with a deep breath threw it open and jumped back. When the sensor lights refused to come on, they knew they hadn't triggered the alarm. The orange glow from the outside lights revealed a turbine machine in the center with a window on the opposite side. Otherwise the room was bare.

"Nice work, Spock," Jim said, clapping his first officer on the back and as he followed Charlie and the others inside while Rachel stared dumbly at the door jam.

"I need to learn that trick," Rachel grumbled as she moved to the back corner, her flashlight illuminating the hatch on the floor. If they hadn't been looking for it, the door easily could have been missed as it seamlessly aligned with the tile. Tapping the center, a circle popped up that revealed a handle and a keypad.

"Ok, let me see if they got this right," Rachel mumbled, pulling out her phone and typing in a six-digit code. The keypad flashed green then a solid click was heard. Grabbing the handle, McCoy and Jim hefted the two-foot solid latch open, revealing a ladder that descended into the dark.

"Good work, lassie," Scotty beamed. "Where'd ya get the code?"

Rachel beamed as she shrugged, slipping her phone back into the pack around her waist. "Called in a few favors back at campus. So, who's first?"

"Me," Charlie answered, already throwing her feet onto the first rung.

"Here." Jim handed Charlie a small light and the tricorder. "Be careful."

"Never," she smirked.

"You should end up in basically a closet," Rachel added as Charlie started down. "In a maintenance wing. I don't think anyone should be there this time of day."

"Famous last words," Charlie muttered.

First twenty feet, then thirty, and just when she reached the point that the metal bars were beginning to kill her feet, she landed on a flat surface. Glancing up, the opening above her head was only the size of quarter, its light pale.

Spinning round, Rachel had been right. The space was maybe five feet squared, with the ladder and a door the only defining features in the blackness. She opened it slowly, waiting for a creak or the sound of footsteps. The hallway was wide and dark, the only light coming from down and around the corner. The floors were shiny and reflective, and the concrete walls bare. She stuck her head out further, listening for the slightest sound. Other than the soft blow of the air units that pushed in fresh air throughout, there was no other noise.

Closing the door softly as she retreated back in, Charlie flipped on the flashlight and shined it above, clicking it on and off in a specific sequence. Rachel answered back with her own, and Charlie knew the message was conveyed that all was clear.

As the light was covered while someone else made their way down, Charlie slipped out the door to keep watch. She crouched in the shadows near the corner as she listened and waited for the others to join her. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she took several deep breaths since she noticed how shallow her breathing had become. She remembered the same feeling of anxiousness as she waited in the air ducts on the _Cairo_ during her security final, but experience taught her that patience would get her the results she wanted. While she waited for the _Enterprise_ crew, she flipped opened the tricorder and followed the readings as it scanned for base personnel.

Charlie sensed movement behind and glanced over her shoulder as a dark shadow slipped out the door. Jim paused, surveying the hall before he saw her gesture in the corner.

"Anything yet?" he whispered as he crouched down next to her.

"Not yet," she answered back, the tricorder showing no bodies near them.

"Cool trick with the flashlight," he added as McCoy joined the pair. "Morse code?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "We learned it as kids. Came in handy when one of us wanted to sneak out. Or sneak back in." Uhura came next, radioing up top they were still all clear.

"Man, being an only child sucked," McCoy grumbled. "Couldn't get away with nothing."

"Sometimes I wish I was an only child," Uhura added as the others radioed back. "I have brother and sister too. They could get you into trouble as much as getting you out of it."

"True that," Charlie derided.

Scotty followed next, taking the tricorder from Charlie as he began scanning at different levels of the base. After a few minutes, the rest of crew had made it down the hatch.

"So, what's next?" Rachel asked, after she closed the door behind her and tiptoed over.

"I need ta get ta one of the main computers," Scotty whispered loudly, both Jim and Charlie shaking their heads. "Get me hands on anything ya may have that can point us in the right direction."

"I second Mr. Scott's assessment," Spock added, albeit much quieter. "I would like to accompany him."

"Aye, that would be a help, Commander."

"And if I can get to a communications station, I might be able to see if they've picked up when we arrived. Or if the others did," Uhura said.

"Let me go with you," Sulu stated. "I might be able to see what ships they have. Maybe use one to get home."

"The IT department is three floors down, on the north side," Rachel pointed out on the tricorder. "It would have everything you're looking for. We don't keep the planes here on base – their either at the Academy or Peterson but you'd be able to see what's on the ground."

"So not only are breaking into a military base, we're going to steal from them too?" Charlie clucked. "Well, I guess if we're going to go big, might as well go nuclear."

"It's not stealing a plane," Rachel argued. "It's borrowing without permission."

"Except we don't have any intention of bringing it back."

"Semantics."

"I don't want us splitting up too much," Jim interrupted the sisters. "Spock, Sulu, Uhura, and Scotty, go as a team and get as much information as you can. Try not to steal a plane if you can avoid it, until we know for certain we need it. Bones, Charlie, Rachel and I will try to find her parents. Meet back here in three hours. And if you come across someone, Spock, you know what to do." Spock frowned, but nodded.

"What if the worst should happen?" Scotty asked the question no one wanted to answer.

Jim sighed. "We stick to the plan. Do not let anyone know where we're from or what we know. We don't exist here, and even if we told them our names, I doubt they'd believe us."

"Use last names only," Uhura said. "We've all gone through the classes. This will be no different."

"If something happens, radio the other team, and we'll figure it out from there," Jim added.

Eyes shifted between each other, but everyone nodded.

"Good. Let's go."

The teams divided in opposite directions, Scotty and the others heading to the stairs while Rachel led them toward a ramp.

"What does he mean 'know what to do?'" she whispered to Charlie as they slinked against the walls.

"Vulcan nerve pinch," Charlie explained as they ducked around a corner. "Renders the person unconscious without killing them."

"Has he done it to you?"

Charlie grinned, remembering the story. "Not me. He got to experience it though." She jerked her head back at Kirk.

Jim subconsciously reached up and rubbed the left side of his neck.

"Did you deserve it?" Rachel smirked.

"No—"

"Yes," McCoy said at the same time, much to Jim's annoyance. "What? You were right in the end, but you were acting like an ass."

"What's different than any other time?" Rachel commented.

"I like this girl," McCoy grinned.

Charlie laughed, and took Jim's hand, his face etched in a scowl. "Remember, we kid because we love."

He rolled his eyes but squeezed her hand in response. "Could ya turn down the love a bit then?"

Halfway down another hall, they heard voices coming toward them, shadows of three people cutting across their path. Charlie's heart leapt in her throat when she realized they didn't have the tricorder with them. They pressed themselves against the wall, their eyes shooting around for an escape. Charlie backed up against a door, her hand instinctually finding a handle that surprised no one more than her when it turned and opened. Falling back in the room with a soft squeak, Charlie sat up as the other three rushed in, Rachel quietly shutting the door behind them just as they heard the voices pass.

"Well that was close," McCoy grumbled. "A little too close to my liking."

"Let's not do that again," Rachel agreed, her ear pressed to the door.

Jim helped to haul Charlie to her feet, glancing around the dark room. It looked like an observatory, with chairs set up on tiers facing a wall of glass. The room on the other side was also dark, only the soft emergency lights adding any glow to the room.

"How close are we to medical engineering?" Jim turned to Rachel.

On the wall was a map, the fire exits marked. Rachel studied it quickly, remarking, "It's the next floor down. If we take the stairs to the right, we should –"

The room was suddenly awash in yellow light, the group throwing their hands up in alarm as their eyes burned from the brightness. Voices were heard, the room naturally amplifying the sounds from below. Blinking against the illumination, Charlie listened intently to the familiar tones as she sided up to the glass for a better look.

"What is the current absorption rate?" she heard her mother ask.

Rachel, Jim, and McCoy followed suit, their eyes adjusting to the room below. It was obviously a medical wing, different instruments, monitors, and apparatuses lining the walls. Several metal cabinets stood to the side, as well as metal tables covered with beakers, and glass tools. The main focal point, however, was in the center of the room; a long, cylindrical device very similar to the cryotube used to save Jim a year ago. Wires and tubes ran from it into the floor as it seemed to pulse with life.

Charlie saw Margaret circled it lazily, checking readings at different points both on the machine and the computer pad in her hand. Along with her mother, several technicians in white lab coats stood around with clip boards or running scans. Her father and another official entered a few moments later, their blue uniforms a stark contrast to the medical attire worn by the rest of the room.

"Eighteen-point two percent," came the answer to Margret's question, her head cocking to the side as she listened.

She shook her head in disappointment.

"Not good enough."

"It will be difficult to increase the readings ma'am and keep stability."

"We're not here to judge difficulty," Margaret chastised. "We're here to get results."

"Do you want to risk it?" the other uniform officer asked, his hands behind his back as he stood next to Robert.

"We're already behind schedule," Margaret responded, barely glancing up from her screen. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Any further increase could have negative effects on the host," her father explained patiently, a pad in his hand as his finger roamed across the screen. "We don't want to have start over like last time."

"Last time the host wasn't strong enough," her mother snapped, finally glancing up.

Robert took the hostility in stride, turning softly address to one of the lab assistants by the long device. Whatever their answer was seemed to please him as he grinned and nodded.

"Increase to nineteen percent," he ordered. "And let's interface the neural tissue with the RNA sequencer and add in thirty ccs of metoprolol. Last time the molecules dissolved while still in stasis. Let's stop that from happening again, shall we?"

"Bones, what's he saying?" Jim asked the CMO, his brows drawl low over his eyes.

McCoy was glaring down at the image below, his arms crossed over his barreled chest.

"From what I gather, their 'host' or whatever it is, is being injected with some kind of drug. I think. They did it before, but the molecular structure of the RNA . . . disintegrated, from what I can tell. That's advanced for this time if they're at that molecular level."

"What would that do?" Rachel asked.

"Well, you would be dead for one."

She scowled in response, crossing her arms. "Thank you Captain Obvious. I got that."

"Well, what do you want from me? I'm a doctor, not a biomedical engineer. _I_ fix things, not play God."

"What do you think they're trying to do now?" Charlie stepped in before her sister could snap back at the surly doctor.

"Well if it were me, I'd introduce whatever the hell it is they've developed to living tissue and see what reaction I'd get. When I was testing Khan's blood, I used samples I had in the lab before I moved on to that tribble."

"I don't think their using tissue," Rachel mumbled, her eyes wide as the technicians seemed to crowd around the stasis machine in the middle of the room, someone's bare feet seen lying on the table.

"Do you think . . . are they . . ." Charlie didn't want to say it, didn't want to believe that her parents were creating their own Frankenstein.

"It's not conclusive," McCoy muttered, his scowl growing. "But they're definitely trying."

"So, if we can get down there, we could see what they've done. Maybe even see what reactions they've had," Jim commented.

"Yeah, I would start there," he agreed.

"Alright, let's wait until they leave, then—" Jim's sentence ended abruptly as he turned.

Charlie spun, her heart dropping into her stomach as three, heavily armed soldiers stood behind her, their M-16 rifles aimed at their heads. They were fully decked out in tactical armor. Their helmets, vests, and belts were solid black, bulking their size to be far larger and more intimidating than normal. Their eyes were narrowed in focus while their stances were strong as they glared at the four intruders.

"Hands up!" the leader barked in a commanding tone. Charlie and Rachel's hands shot up in an instant, with McCoy and Jim far more leisured about their new predicament.

"What authorization do you have to be in here?" he barked again.

"Uh—" the rifle snapped to Jim's head.

"This is Captain Kirk, here to observe by permission of Colonel Noland," Charlie said before she could think. The rifle moved to her, but his eyes stayed on Jim, a brow disappearing into the helmet.

"Captain . . . Kirk, huh?" If there wasn't a good chance she would be shot, Charlie could have smacked herself in the head.

Jim shrugged, his arms still raised as he played along. "Yeah, I get it all the time."

"Why aren't you in uniform?"

"This is an informal observation," Rachel added, a rifle from the one to the left pointed at her.

"Who are you?"

"Cadet Noland, Colonel Noland's daughter." The rifle dropped a fraction, the soldier now taking stock of the group.

"Who's he?" the leader gestured at McCoy.

"Doctor Bones," Jim said, smirking a bit as he heard a low rumble from his CMO.

"Bones? Really?"

"Let's just say I'm in the right profession," McCoy growled.

"Where's your identification tags?" the last soldier questioned the group. "They should have been issued at the front."

"Uhhh," Charlie glanced between the group, stumped on how they were going to get out of trouble now.

The soldiers flexed, re-aiming their guns when no answer was forth coming.

"I think you better come with us," the leader ordered, making to grab for Charlie. Before they could blink, Jim had grabbed the barrel of the gun and pulled, throwing the surprised soldier off balance as his fist connected with the man's nose.

"Jim!" Charlie cried, surprised by the captain's actions.

Something seemed to take over him. Jim moved faster than humanely possible, faster than Charlie had ever seen. As if in a blur, Jim was behind the second soldier, his arm reaching around as he grabbed the soldier's gun, driving the heel into his neck and causing the man to lose consciousness as if he has been grabbed by a Vulcan. Charlie and McCoy rushed forward as Jim turned to the last soldier, the man clearly unprepared for such a vicious attack. Before Jim could take a step however, Charlie and McCoy grabbed his arms and held him back. The second her skin connected with his, Charlie felt the heat of her hand flow into him like a river, the ice under her fingers melting away.

The tension released from his shoulders as fast as it came, and Jim was surprised to find himself held back. His startled gaze shot around, confused by the men at his feet, and the pair holding onto his arms. Slowly, he removed himself from their grasp and raised his hands, lacing his fingers behind his head as he noted the concerned faces. Charlie, McCoy and Rachel followed the captain, their hands moving to behind their heads as they regarded the last soldier standing.

"Jim, what was that?" Charlie whispered, concerned as she stared at him like she'd never seen him before.

"I- I don't know," he whispered back, his gaze unfocused as he tried to figure out what the hell happened.

"C-come with us now!" the soldier shouted. The leader groaned and sat up, blood pouring from his broken nose. Smearing the liquid across his lip, he picked up his gun with his eyes narrowed in anger at the group. Coming behind the captain, he shoved the barrel in between Jim's shoulders harshly, ignoring as he stumbled while he was forced from the room. The other gestured for the three to follow behind, radioing central command that they needed medical up to the observation room.

Quickly, they were led down the stairs and into the medical wing, the large metal double doors swinging open with a hiss as they neared.

Charlie could feel her heart thundering in her chest as she was forced into the bright light as those in medical hall turned when the group entered. Shocked didn't even describe the looks on her parents' faces when they noticed their two daughters with a loaded M-16 pointed at their backs.

"What in the hell is going on?!" her father barked, his narrowed glare jumping between Charlie and the security officers.

"We found these four up in the observation lounge," the leader said, ignoring as more blood dripped down his vest. "This one here attacked me." He thrust the barrel into the back of Jim's head, the captain shooting a glare behind him. "But it was only because they said they knew you that we didn't shoot them right away."

"Sooooo, this isn't how it looks—" Rachel tried before Charlie kicked her to shut her up. She still hadn't learned. Silence was best in these situations.

"And how doesn't this look like my children just broke into a secure military base, attacked active duty members, and may have completely destroyed their and _their parent's_ career," Margaret shouted. "And to drag civilians into this is grounds for court martial. I thought we raised you better. What in the hell were you thinking?!"

Silence greeted her, the two girls shuffling their feet while avoiding looking either parent in the eye.

"Speak. Now." The softness was worse than a slap.

"It was my idea," Charlie asserted before her sister could dig a bigger hole. "We heard what you were working on and—"

"How the hell could you have heard," her father barked. "You didn't even show up till two days ago."

"My crew has excellent hearing, _Father,_ " she spat, unable to help herself, her arms still raised with no word she could lower them. "And no matter the problems between us, I had to warn you."

"Warn us about what, _Charlotte,_ " her father growled back, his eyes narrowed threateningly.

"That what you're working on isn't worth it. They will become too powerful, too advanced. You won't be able to control them."

"And you know this how?" the other uniform officer spoke, a Major Byrd by the name on his uniform.

Charlie turned to him, forgetting that there were the others in the room. "It's complicated. Sir."

"Did you have an experience from your . . . trip?" her mother asked, catching herself before she said where Charlie really was.

Charlie locked eyes with her mother. "Yes, we came across someone who – was following a similar line of research and development. It didn't end well."

Major Byrd scoffed. "The private sector doesn't have near the advantages we have – most notably anonymity. Colonel, this is really out of line to have your civilian children here. I will call for security immediately and have them removed."

"Stand down, Major," the Colonel barked, the other man's brows rising in surprise. "My daughters are both cadets, and the other two are a captain and, I'm sorry who are you again?"

"Dr. McCoy," Bones grumbled.

"I thought your name was Bones?" the security said.

"Bones, McCoy, whatever," he shrugged. "I'm a doctor, that's all you need to know. Might want to get that nose looked at."

"Doctor McCoy and the captain were asked to be here," Robert continued, Charlie and Rachel catching each other's attention, both with the same look of confusion on their face. "I just hadn't told Dr. Noland. You may leave Lieutenant, Staff Sargent."

"Colonel, I –"

"Your opinion wasn't asked for, Major." He turned back to the soldiers. "Dismissed."

The lieutenant glared at the back of Jim's head as he lowered his weapon and turned to walk away, running a hand under his nose to finally stop the bleeding. Charlie and the others lowered their arms, the girls automatically moving to an at ease position with their legs spread and their arms behind their backs.

"Robert what are you talking about?" Margaret turned to her husband, emulating the same puzzlement as her daughters.

Robert ignored her. "The rest of you, out. OUT!"

The technicians all scurried from the room, the door closing with a soft whoosh behind them.

"Colonel, Doctor Noland, what is going on?" the major asked, his expression pinched. "Why didn't you tell me we'd have guests? Now is really not the time, not when we're so close to getting the serum correct."

"They weren't supposed to be here, but I'm not going to destroy their careers for this. Rick, if you could give us a moment. And I'd appreciate your discretion with this."

Rick regarded the scene and gave a curt nod. "I won't report this. Not yet. But you'll owe me, Noland. For my discretion."

Robert scowled but nodded. The major glanced once more at the group in puzzlement, then shaking his head left as well.

"Why did you protect us?" Charlie asked hesitantly when the doors closed, her brows drawn low.

"I guess you have finally lived up to our name," Robert said as if it was the most obviously thing in the world. "It was brave to sneak in here. Stupid, but brave."

"Sometimes, I don't know with you," Margaret rolled her eyes. "Charlotte, Rachel, I am not kidding. You've put yourself in serious trouble coming here. And bringing the captain and doctor with you."

"I understand, Mom," Charlie said. "But you can't work on augments."

"Why not?"

"Because they're raging psychopaths?" McCoy butt in. "Listen, Dr. Noland, I'm a medical doctor, with experience in what you're trying to do. Let me tell you augments are not kittens. They're as strong as ten men, they're ruthless and cunning, they have a dramatically low moral compass, and they regenerate at a rate that's unheard of."

"Which is exactly why we need them."

"Are you even listening?!" Charlie shouted.

"Charlie, you've been gone so long you don't know what's going on here. ISIS is growing at an alarming rate, their influences are shoving people out of their home countries, they're bombing schools, parks, festivals. We need to stop them."

"Then there's got be to another answer. There _has_ to be another way."

"If you wanted to give us some of what you know, maybe we wouldn't need them." Robert had a calculating gleam to his eyes.

"You know we can't do that," Jim said, steel behind his tone as he glared at her father. "We have a prime directive we have to follow."

"So, wouldn't stopping our research go against that?" Robert challenged.

"We're not giving you an advantage," Charlie argued, exasperated. "We're just trying to stop you from making a mistake that could cost this world more than it's willing to spend."

"Charlotte, you see one thread in a tapestry that's being woven here. There's more than you think."

"Don't patronize me, Mother," Charlie spat. "I know a hell of a lot more than you give me credit for. I've seen threats that would make your blood run cold. I won't stand by while you put this family, this country, and this planet into needless danger."

"We're trying to save it!" Robert shouted. "You've been gone for three years. You haven't seen the changes, seen the chaos that is slowly consuming this planet. If we can rid this strong threat, we'll be safer."

"When has that ever worked, Colonel?" Charlie challenged. "Can you honestly give me a time in history when this planet was without conflict? Certainly wasn't when we were scratching a living out of the soil. Or when the Romans were in power. It definitely wasn't during the crusades, or colonization, in fact it seemed to have gotten worse after we dropped the damn bomb. So tell me, when will we actually be safe?"

"That's why we're doing this now, Charlotte. To create a better world."

"But _they_ won't. Sure, I suppose this world will be safe under a global dictatorship."

"Dr. Noland, we understand your motivation," Jim tried to placate. "But even with all the advancements we've made in our century, augments still tried to destroy what we had built. They killed without a second thought; murdered to get their way. We couldn't control them. How do you think you could?"

"We will take your concerns into consideration, but I will not stop this project," Margret confirmed.

"We owe it to the people to protect them," Robert continued. "I'm sorry that as whatever you are, you can't see the truth in that."

"The first duty of every Starfleet officer is to the truth, whether it's scientific truth or historical truth or personal truth," Charlie quoted with a glare at her parents. "It is the guiding principle on which Starfleet is based. And if we can't find it within ourselves to stand up and tell the truth, we don't deserve to wear that uniform. I deserve to wear my uniform."

"Mom, Colonel, when was the last time you saw Charlie like this?" Rachel said pointing at her heated sister. "When was the last time you remember her this determined by her convictions? Because I don't. Even when she went to England, she wasn't like this. She's serious, and she's confident, and I believe her. Why can't you?"

Robert and Margaret shared a glance, uncertainty shining in her mother's eyes. Margaret took a breath, her hand coming up to wipe her forehead just as the doors behind them blasted open, throwing everyone to the ground. Charlie blinked, once, twice, and then everything went black.

* * *

 **As always please leave a review. The only rewards us writers get is know what you think! ^_^**


	7. Chapter Seven: There and Back Again

**Happy Friday! Here's a new chapter to start your weekend off right! As always, let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: There and Back Again**

First the bombs fell. Then they were convulsing on the ground as every cell in their body felt like liquid fire. Now, Carol and Chekov could barely keep their eyes open as the wind lashed around them. Debris swirled in the mix as both officers sported deep cuts to their arms, legs, and face. They held on to one of the courtyard's stone pillars with all their strength as a vortex in the middle of the quad tried to drag them in; their surroundings becoming only the pillar in their arms and dirt stinging their eyes.

"Yomayo!" Chekov cursed, his fingers beginning to slip. He tried to readjust, but it was no use.

"I got you Chekov!" Carol shouted, grabbing his hand as his fingers lost their grip and he began flying toward the whirlwind.

Just when Carol thought she couldn't hold on any longer, her fingers digging into the concrete with the roar of the twister pounding her ears, the storm ceased like a switch turned off. Both of the officers dropped to the ground with a grunt, the wind knocked from their lungs. They sat up groaning as wisps of ash and debris slowly drifted back to Earth.

"What in the hell was that?" Carol whispered as she alarmingly noted the now empty courtyard.

"I have no idea," Chekov moaned as he sat up, bits of rubble stuck in his shaggy curls. "I have never seen a weapon like zat. Where did it come from?"

Carol's gaze went distant, running over different weapons specs she knew of and finding no correlation. "No clue. Are you ok?"

"Da," he nodded, standing and dusting himself off while surveying the land. His eyes widened, spinning around in alarm. "Where is ze Keptin and Mr. Spock? I don't see zem, or ze others anywhere."

Breathless, Carol shared the same wide-eyed response to Chekov, her head whipping around as she finally noticed they were the only two left from the _Enterprise_. Although other members of the ceremony were strewn about, either assessing their own injuries or helping others, neither Kirk, McCoy, or any of the other crewmembers were present.

Stumbling to her feet, Carol took off running to where their crew was last seen, Chekov hot on her heels while their hearts thundered in their chests. She glanced at the bodies scattered, the grey blending with red, blue, and green of the different species blood. But there was no dark Vulcan head, or greying doctor, or blond captain. No one aside from Carol and Chekov remained of the bridge crew.

She dropped to her knees as her hands roamed over the now hard earth in desperation. Meanwhile, Chekov yanked out the tricorder from his belt and began measuring the air and ground around them, muttering furiously to himself. In a matter of seconds, their crew all but vanished, with no clues left of where they went. In fact, not only had their crew disappeared, but the very people who attacked them were nowhere in sight, vanishing like ghosts.

"Lucy! Lucy!" a frantic woman screamed, her pristine dark suit cut and dirty, her hair disheveled, and her eyes wide with panic. She dropped to her knees near Carol, practically clawing at the concrete as she continued to scream. "Lucy!"

Carol and Chekov caught each other's attention.

"Who is Lucy?" Carol asked.

"Lucille, my daughter. Those things in the cloaks took her." The woman's dark eyes were wide and hysterical, desperately searching Carol's blue. "Do you know where they took her?!"

"I don't, I'm sorry. Do you know who the attackers were?" Carol asked the hysterical mother, placing her hand on her shoulder in comfort and trying to calm the woman down.

"No, I've never seen them before. Please, I want my daughter back," the woman cried, rivulets of tears pouring down her dark cheeks as she gripped Carol forcefully. "I saw Captain Kirk and the others go after her. Where did they go?"

Carol and Chekov shared the same disheartened glance.

"We don't know," Carol said contritely, prying the desperate mother's grip from her shoulders and holding her hands instead. "My name is Dr. Carol Marcus, I'm one of Captain Kirk's crew. This is Ensign Pavel Chekov."

"Marcus?" the woman said, her eyes widening in surprise before she shook the emotion away. "My name is Rima Harewood. Please, will the captain save my daughter? Will he find her?"

"Of course he will," Carol affirmed, Pavel nodding enthusiastically next to her although his attention didn't move the machine in his hands.

"Da, the Keptin won't stop until he 'as her. Wherever zey are."

Distant sirens began permeating the air. Carol glanced up as police cruisers began flying in, swirling the leaves and debris all around again and causing the dormant fires to flare. Medical personnel finally started rushing in, the force keeping the ceremony attendants in and help out lifting. The men and women ran to the fallen, dropping their kits and bags as they began to survey the injuries of those still left.

"Dis is strange," Chekov muttered, his focus on his tricorder with his eyes narrowed.

"What is it?" Carol questioned, standing to glance at the readings on the tricorder.

He flicked the blond curls out of his eyes, shaking his head in agitation. "I am getting wawes of abnormal grawimetric particles combining with za magnetic pulses of ze planet. Zey are swirling."

"Is that not normal?" Carol questioned as the darker woman stood, hugging her arms to her chest but her attention on Chekov; Rima's eyes narrowing in concentration while hanging onto his every word.

"Well, normally zese type waves trawel north to south or wisa wersa," Chekov explained. "Straight lines, da? But zese ones are swirls, mowing counter clockwise."

"Let me see that," Carol said, taking the tricorder. Her eyes widened in response as the patterns emerged. "This is strange."

Adjusting the frequencies and scans, she was able to pick up more information, but the particles were dissolving faster than she could record them. By the time a medical technician made their way to Carol, Chekov, and Rima to begin accessing injuries, the waves and particles had fully disappeared with not even their shadows present anymore.

"What do you think those are?" Carol asked Chekov, ignoring as medical scans displayed no serious injuries and healing the cuts and bruises.

"I don't know," Chekov shrugged, waving the EMTs away. "I am fine. Go help ze others. I have newer seen grawitational wawes move like zat before."

"It could explain that vortex," Rima nodded in concentration, both Carol and Chekov's attention darting to the woman in surprise. "It did look like a mini black hole."

They blinked at her, both with their mouths open in surprise. She wavered a moment before she sighed.

"I'm sorry, I should have said my name is _Dr_. Rima Harewood," she explained, tucking a few loose strings of dark hair behind her ear. "I taught quantum mechanics at University College London before my daughter became ill. My research focus was on black holes."

"Have you seen particle waves like this?" Carol regarded the woman speculatively, but showed her the readings on the tricorder nonetheless.

"Not in person," Rima shook her head, taking the tricorder and scanning its analysis quickly. "Theoretically, gravitational particles may spin inside of a black hole because of the immense pressure and gravity present. But it hasn't been proven . . . yet."

"Well they might able to be proven now," Carol said. "Look here, they seemed to straighten out, but only after they've completed the smallest circle in the middle of the vortex. Like a drain."

"We should be able to follow zat trajectory," Pavel nodded. "But I have no idea where it went from there."

"That is the problem. We don't know where the white hole is," Rima stated, blank stares meeting her own. Rolling her eyes, she explained, "The theory is that if on one side of a wormhole, which this very well could have been, is black, the other must then be white."

"A white hole?" Carol didn't sound convinced.

"Da, I've heard za theory," Chekov nodded. "Matter cannot be created or destroyed. Zerefore, when it enters a black hole, if it isn't crushed it has to go somewhere."

"That was the basis of my research," Rima supplemented. "A white hole is the theoretical time reversal of a black hole and while a black hole acts like a vacuum, drawing in any matter that crosses the event horizon, a white hole would then eject that same matter from its event horizon. Many have theorized it's most likely blown out in some alternative universe."

"Like ze Kelwin incident."

"We believe, yes."

"That's great. So, if these exist, how do we get the others back?" Carol asked, interrupting the pair before they spun off into physics theories as Chekov was notorious to do. Afterall, being one of the youngest officers in a bridge command meant he knew his stuff, but was as energetic as a puppy.

Both paused, running over scenarios while a commotion near the stage drew Carol's attention. Starfleet police had finally entered the fray while the wounded were taken out in stretchers. The officers in their dark uniforms were grabbing those able to stand, taking accounts and herding them toward one corner of the space. At the same time, Carol noted the insignias on several others who entered behind the police, among them at least three admirals, a rear admiral, and possibly the chief of staff to the President of the Federation. They stood shoulder to shoulder, a barrier against those less injured trying to leave.

"Well, if we can replicate ze particle stream and combine it with ze magnetic field, maybe we can open up zat vortex and get ze Keptin and the crew back," Chekov hypothesized, ignoring the commotion as witnesses were now forced out and into waiting vehicles. "Create our own black hole."

"And my daughter," Rima firmly commanded. "I need my daughter back."

"All of them," Carol agreed quickly, turning back to the conversation. "But how do we recreate the particle stream? Do you think it could trigger a mini wormhole?"

"We would need energy, and a lot of it," Rima thought aloud. "Exotic matter was what I was testing. It's a fourth dimensional type of conduit, but we're barely been able to scratch the surface of the theory, let alone create it."

"They did," Carol noted pointing at the destruction surrounding them. "So, it's possible, but I've never heard of exotic matter. Where can we find it?"

"Exotic matter contains negative energy density and a large negative pressure. Such matter has only been seen in the behavior of certain vacuum states as part of quantum field theory," Rima explained. "Unfortunately, it's nothing like dark or antimatter, so we don't know where to find it yet."

"You know, this sounds like red matter," Carol noted, Chekov nodding in agreement.

Rima's dark eyes widened in alarm. "You know about red matter?"

"If only we had some, like what brought Charlie here," Chekov bemoaned, missing the exchange.

"Who is Charlie?"

Carol's blue eyes widened.

"That's it," she whispered, her nerves on edge as a distinctive line began making its way towards them. Warning were now flashing for Carol, her heart beating painfully as her instincts told her something wasn't right. Grabbing the arms of both Chekov and Rima, she ordered, "We need to get out of here."

Carol whipped her head around as she looked for a chance to escape. After Khan and what happened with her father, she knew when her instincts were telling her that something was very wrong.

"What is it?" Chekov asked, finally noticing the new powers at play. "Why are ze admirals here?"

"No time to explain," Carol said, noticing a hole blown into the wall opposite the line of Starfleet officials.

In reality, Carol couldn't explain the sudden instinctual onslaught of danger she felt when Starfleet command walked in. It was expected they'd show up. After all, the ceremony was to rechristen a ship almost destroyed a year ago stopping a terroristic man. The crew was being honored for their roles blocking Khan, for the sacrifices they made while exposing the weakness within Starfleet only to be attacked, again, by an unknown group for an unknown reason. Why wouldn't command show up? There was a serious lack of security and protection to allow someone to get in with a weapon, let alone a full-blown attack.

Maybe that's why the red flags were flashing. Where was the security to have prevented the attack? Why weren't they there to stop them stealing the little girl and the crew? How were they able to so easily penetrate the defenses? Were they augments, awakened to end what Khan and her father started? But why go after a child?

So many questions bounced around her head as they snuck through the gap in the wall. All Carol knew is that the ship and the people on the _Enterprise_ earned her trust and there was no question about their loyalty. The incident with Khan and her father highlighted how fractured Carol's trust was in those leaders sworn to protect them.

The smoke of the dying fires hid their escape both from above and beyond. As they crawled through the hole, Carol turned one last time, making sure they weren't spotted, but also to confirm what her instincts. She could see pointing, and exclamations, all of it about the masked intruders and the Starfleet crew that followed. Although the police were speaking with the people, the way in which command moved around, their own tricorders out and focused not on the bombs and security but the center where the vortex was told Carol all she needed to know. Ducking back, she followed the other two out onto the sidewalk, taking a less travelled path as they hurried away from the scene. To what awaited them, they didn't know.

* * *

"We have got to find a way to send a message to ze Keptin. Tell him what is going on."

Chekov, Rima, and Carol were currently holed out in Rima's hotel suite, a couple miles from the warzone that was the ceremony earlier that day. Both Carol and Chekov agreed that Starfleet would try to find them at their residences unless they made it seem like they followed their crew into the unknown. It was chaotic to say the least, so there was a chance those who would have recognize them missed their inability to follow the rest of the crew.

They had the stream going of the attack projected on the wall in the background. Starfleet was calling it a terrorist attack but that the perpetrators got away. Those who were anchoring the coverage were speculating. Was is Romulan? Klingon? Another source that held their resentment at bay until now? Over two hundred and fifty different species of Federation citizens were killed in the attack last year. Any number of those planets could have blamed Starfleet for the loss and sought retribution. Did they wait until the ceremony to enact their revenge? But why stay hidden?

"Yes, but how can we do that when we don't even know where they are?" Carol pointed out, pacing across the tan carpet in the small suite, casting a glare at the coverage every once in a while. She still hadn't forgiven the vilification of her father, even if ninety percent of it was true. "It's not as if they can answer their comms. I know, I tried."

"Zere has got to be a way." Chekov ran a hand through his curls agitatedly.

"Unless I knew exactly where they landed, there's no way for me to get the information across," Rima added dejectedly.

"So, what do we do? Go to Starfleet?"

"No." Carol's blonde bob whipped back and forth. "At least, not right now. I can't explain it, but something isn't sitting right with me about today."

"Da," Chekov nodded, his brows drawn low over his eyes. "Zere is no way zat kind of attack could 'ave happened without prior knowledge. Ze ceremony was in ze middle of campus. Someone must have let zem in. Whoewer zey were."

"But who would do that?" Rima asked, her own gaze concerned. "Who would steal a child?"

"Someone who had access to red matter?" Chekov stated, concentrating as he continued going over the scans from the tricorder. "It's ze only way zat kind of anomaly could be created. Question is why?"

"And what the bloody hell those weapons were," Carol growled as she plopped on the couch next to Chekov. "I've never seen something that could remotely attack the electronical patterns of the nervous system."

Carol sent a concerned glance toward Rima as she visibly swallowed, wetness coating her lashes as she remembered her daughter falling unconscious from the pain. Rima waved her off, burying those memories for another time after her child was back in her arms.

"Listen, I know we're concerned about Captain Kirk and the rest of the crew," Carol said, sitting forward with her elbows on her scrapped knees. "But until we can figure out how to get to them, we have to trust that they're taking care of themselves and finding a way back."

"So, we should sit here and do nothing?" Rima's dark eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's not what I said," Carol denied. "No, I think the ceremony may have been a trap for that group that showed up."

"Why?" the mother questioned. "Why use something so public?"

"Draw them in? Give them the exposed platform they've been looking for?"

"Then why didn't they announce who they were, what their goal was? Why take my daughter?!"

Carol sighed. "I don't know, I'm sorry. I'm trying to figure this out just like you."

"Maybe, maybe if we try to find zis rogue group, maybe we find why Starfleet is so interested," Chekov interrupted. "Maybe we can zen find the others?"

"That's not a bad idea," Carol agreed, the streaming now moving to members of Starfleet's top brass answering questions, most of which was either omitted or plain wrong information. They knew Starfleet was trying to stop panic that undoubtedly could occur, but it still seemed distasteful. Carol shook her head in disappointment.

"Alright, their weird weapons aside, what do we know?" Rima asked.

"Well, this group must have used some form of red matter to create that vortex," Carol said. "I don't know if that's how they got there, but we know that's how they left. If Starfleet knew, this may have been why they set a trap for them."

"Some trap if they got away," Rima sneered.

"But zer is no more of ze red matter," Chekov said, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "I used the rest of it meself with Mister Scott to get ze girls back to zere time."

"What are you talking about?" Rima asked. "I thought red matter was destroyed along with the Narada?"

Carol and Chekov shared the same glance wondering how much to tell her. Other than the leadership, no one was told about Charlie and her friends, and the events that revolved around their coming to the 23rd century. While the Kelvin event was well known and regarded because of the sacrifices of George Kirk, the Boradis Incident as it was referred was relatively unknown. The last thing Starfleet wanted was to broadcast that there was red matter still accessible in the universe.

"We haven't been completely honest with you," Carol began hesitantly.

Chekov nodded. "Zere has been something like zis before."

Rima's dark stare bore into the other two, waiting for them to continue.

"A friend of ours, Charlie, who we mentioned is not actually from here. Our time that is. She came here using red matter, but in a stabilized form. There was a descent of hers that was researching it, and while I don't know the whole story, it brought her here."

"We thought we used ze last of it to send her friends home," Chekov added. "Zere was the potential to find ze designs to recreate it, but it was destroyed. Or we thought so."

Silence descended on the three as they waited for the inevitable reaction.

"I know."

Those two words had Carol and Chekov reeling.

"I'm sorry?" Carol questioned sharply.

"I haven't been honest with you either." Rima's British accent became accentuated as she continued, her emotions beginning to get the best of her. "Yes, I was a professor at UCL, but that was my cover job. My husband and I were both working for Section 31 in London."

"Chush sobachya." Chekov's eyes narrowed and his face grew red. "You worked for those monsters?!"

"We didn't know it at the time," Rima hastily defended. "I thought we were working to protect the Federation. I know now I was misled."

Carol placed a hand on Chekov's arm as his mouth opened to argue back.

"We all were."

Chekov's jaw closed with a snap. He continued to scowl, his arms crossed angrily over his chest, but he remained silent.

"How long did you work there? Until last year?" Carol asked, needing to know how much she could trust the woman sitting in front of her.

"My husband and I were there from the beginning, but when our daughter became sick, we took turns taking care of her and working. When we were told she had less than six months to live, I took an extended leave to take care of her. My husband just dove into work. The day she recovered, he was killed in the bombing."

Carol could tell there were other things left unsaid but left her alone for the moment. There were more important things to focus on.

"I'm sorry about your loss," Carol said, understanding that pain. "Ok, so we know this group had to have used red matter. Question is, how did they get it?"

Chekov sent one last glare at both the women before he sat forward, his brow wrinkled in concentration. "Well, ze last place we know it was, was ze Boradis Station."

"Wasn't it destroyed?" Carol asked.

"Ahhh, ish," Chekov shrugged. "It was repairable, but Charlie convinced ze Keptin to destroy it."

"Why?" Rima questioned, surprised.

"With a weapon like zat, who knew what could happen. I wanted to keep it, study it more. After Khan, and how much ze timeline could change for ze worse, it was right for ze Keptin to do it. We are not ready for zat type of power."

"Is anybody, really?" Carol added dryly. "Ok, could there have been anyone before? Someone who got there and took the info without anyone knowing?"

"It's possible before the station went down," Rima said, thinking. "Remember how I told you about exotic matter? Well, our main focus was on these different states of matter, trying to see if we could replicate red matter again. I didn't know there was still some in existence, though. Dr. Spear was on my team for a time before he went to the station. He wasn't just trying to create it, but make it stable – a way to travel, potentially through time, but we were also thinking through space; be able to go to the other side of the galaxy if we wanted."

"Wait, you knew him?" Chekov exclaimed.

"Yes," she nodded. "We were both studying the same phenomenon, just in different ways. He went to the station to 'research in peace.' At least that's what I heard. He all but disappeared in the night."

"Did a lot of people go out there?" Carol questioned.

Rima shook her head. "Not that I know. It was pretty far out in the Beta Quadrant. Supply ships of course, but there wasn't as much activity as what we were working on in the Sol system. Though I remember Admiral Marcus went out there once, about six months before the station was attacked."

Carol tried not to let her astonishment show. As head of Starfleet, her father was always jumping around the galaxy – it shouldn't have been surprised for him to check in on a far outpost. Especially if those types of experiments were going on.

"Did he bring anyone with him?" Chekov frowned, wondering if Marcus could again be the link, the pinnacle of every crazy thing that has happened to the _Enterprise_ in the last few years.

"A few minor admirals and commodores," she shrugged. "His usual troupe of Yeomen and groupies that followed him everywhere. I might be able to pull up a list if I can access the servers were using. They're probably at headquarters."

"No need," Carol remarked. "I know who my father usually took with him."

"Your father?" It was Rima's turn to look outraged. "I was right then, when I asked about your surname."

"I am not my father."

"Da, I can wouch for Dr. Marcus." Chekov was quick to her defense. "She helped us last year with ze _Wengeance_. She swayed our ship."

Rima's eyes were like obsidian, dark and sharp as they flickered between the two Starfleet officers before something seemed to click.

"Alright. We can't change the past and our roles in it – whether good or bad. All we can do it try to impact the future. We need to get my daughter and your crew back. And we need to figure out who it was that started this to begin with. So, what do we do?"

They sat thinking in silence as the minutes ticked by – all three running over every scenario that came to mind. As much as Carol hated to admit it, the more she thought about it the more she realized they needed the connections that Starfleet had. They were the best access for information and resources but the question was how to use what was available to them, without alerting the admirals to what was going on. Until they knew who the group was that attacked them, what their mission and goals were, and how the leadership of the Federation played into it, they needed to play everything close to the breast.

There was the crew to think about, and Lucy, and the politics that swirled around their universe. Was this the starter for civil war? For war with the Klingons? Or Romulans? Carol knew that was what her father was preparing for, and she wondered how much was his paranoia and how much was the truth.

"Maybe," she stated slowly, gauging their reactions. "Maybe instead of hiding we go out in the open? Pretend we know nothing, but check the records, the comms. Hide in plain sight."

"I can work from the underground," Rima nodded. "I still have all my access codes, and a few friends on the inside. See what they know."

"Da," Chekov agreed. "Might work, but we have to be cautious. Don't know who is friend or foe. Like we say in Russia, keep your friends close and enemy closer."

Rima seemed confused and opened her mouth to argue before Carol caught her eye and shook her head. It was just like Chekov.

"Alright," Carol nodded. "Let's get to work.


	8. Chapter Eight: 50 Ways to Say Good-Bye

**Chapter Eight: 50 Ways to Say Goodbye**

Was she dead? Charlie laid on the cold tile, disoriented and confused as chaos erupted around her. She blearily blinked her eyes open, a silent void while the world was anything but calm. Smoke hung lazily in the air as yellow and red alarms flashed although she couldn't hear them. She felt the vibrations of running feet and smell the sulfuric odor of gun smoke. She reached up and gently prodded the lump of the back of her head, her fingers coming back sticky as a small amount of blood coated her fingertips. She stared at it, her brows drawn low as the pain began to pulse in her head. No, she wasn't dead. Not yet at least.

Like coming out of a dream, she slowly began to hear shouting and then the alarms blaring, all of it pounding through her skull in agonizing reverberations. With a groan, she tried to get up, her shoulder burning while finally noticing the black caped individuals rushing into the room and toward her parents' research. She had just caught a glimpse of a white mask, the image of a black sphere ringed like a total eclipse on the forehead when arms wrapped around her shoulders. Before she knew it, she was thrown behind one of the long metal tables that had been blown to the side, broken glass crunching on the floor as she propped her back against the cold steel.

"Where are you hurt?" It was McCoy, all three of him.

"My, uh, head." She was pulled forward as he dug through her hair.

"You've a good goose egg, but the cut's small. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Which one of you?" she mumbled with a wince.

"Cute, Spitfire. Focus on one."

"Four?"

McCoy glanced at the three fingers he was holding up. "Ok, that's wrong. Dammit for being in the stone ages. I don't have my med kit with me."

" 'Is ok. 'Is not that bad."

"Do you hear yourself?"

"Wha'? I'm fine," she blinked blearily at him as the three McCoys became two then slowly faded to one.

"Sure, I'm convinced." He clearly wasn't.

As he continued to grumble, searching around for anything he could use, Charlie's head cleared. The pain was still there, but it was dimming to tolerable levels. That's when she heard unmistakable the pop! pop! pop! of 21st century firearms.

Both she and McCoy dropped to the ground, the whoosh of bullets whizzing over their heads above the table. Charlie peaked around the corner, two of the intruders behind the tubular device in the center of the room providing cover fire so their comrades could attempt to make their way to the back of the room and the computers housed there. She couldn't see the exact type of weapon in their hand, but they definitely had automatic rifles.

She ducked back behind the table, her mind running a thousand miles a second as she tried to figure out how they were going to get out of this mess. There was an answer to the first-round of fire, Charlie spotting her father and mother to the left, both with their standard issued pistols out and pointed at the black caped attackers. They ducked down behind the computer desk they occupied, bullets raining around them.

"We got to get out of here. Where's Jim and Rachel?" Charlie said to McCoy as they lay prone on their stomachs.

"Opposite wall. When the blast hit, they went one way, me and your parents the other. You took most the hit."

"So that's why my shoulder is burning," she grumbled. "Along with my head."

She searched the wall closest to them for any weapon or tool she could use. Improvise, adapt, overcome. That's when she saw the giant red box on the wall, big bold letters on the front saying 'AED.' She grinned as an idea clicked in her head.

"Hey, McCoy, know how to use a defibrillator?"

"One from this century? No clue. Why?"

She jutted her chin toward the wall just as bullets sprayed into it. Apparently, the group wasn't trying to kill them, just keep them pinned.

"Ah hell. You're not thinking what I think you're thinking?"

Charlie just grinned. "Watch my back?"

"Someone's got to," he griped.

McCoy shuffled until he got a good view of shooters. When Rachel and Kirk drew their attention, McCoy gestured for Charlie to move.

She soldier crawled over to the wall, pausing to look back over her shoulder to make sure they couldn't see her movement. Her elbows hurt as she dug them into the cold tile, the pull on her shoulder causing a hiss as it tugged on raw skin. Her head still pounded, but training had her compartmentalizing the pain away. She had a task, and the lives of her family depended on her.

After only a few moments, she was next to the white wall, the appliance just feet above her head. She glanced back and was relieved that at least on the ground, the attackers still couldn't see her. She sat up behind a cabinet, blocked from the offenders' sight, but close to the defibrillator. She caught her father's eye, and when he glanced at what she was aiming for, he gave a brief nod, shooting a couple rounds over his shoulder to draw their fire. Charlie paused a moment before she snapped up, grabbed the machine, and dropped back down before they noticed.

With a nod to McCoy, she slid it across the floor where he caught it and she crawled back. Heading to the other end of the table, Charlie could see that men in the robes were inching their way closer to the back computers, her parents' weapons slowly loosing ammo as they went through another clip.

"Great, Spitfire. Now what do we do?"

Charlie took the small appliance from McCoy and propped it in her lap. She ripped it open, surprised that it didn't start issuing orders the way other ones had that she'd come across. But then remembering where she was, they probably had the real thing somewhere in the room. She pulled out the sticky pads and prepped them best she could. Once everything was done and beginning to charge, she turned back to McCoy.

"Wish me luck?"

"He's going to kill me if something happens to you, you know that right?"

Charlie smirked, edging around the table until she was as close as possible. "Then create a distraction."

"With what?" he shouted, drawing the attention of the two by the main machine in the room. It was just what Charlie needed. Without second guessing herself, Charlie leapt from behind the table and slid cross the tile until she was under the metal base. Slapping the pads onto the bottom, she pressed the button and then made sure not a single part of her was touching it. Within seconds she heard an unmistakable pop, followed by several screams as the men who had been firing on her family collapsed, their weapons dropping in the process.

Charlie quickly grabbed one, and slid it to Rachel, who took up position while she grabbed the other. Her sister was able to provide cover fire as Charlie ran and then dove over the computer desk her parents were hiding behind.

"Here," she handed the weapon to her father, who with a rare look of admiration began to advance on the group, Rachel and Jim following his lead and leaving Charlie with her mother

"Ok, I bought us some time, but what do we do now?" she asked her mother.

"I've radioed down to base, they should be sending in a tactical team any minute now. How the hell did they get in?!"

"No idea, but you guys may want to make sure all of your entrances are supervised. Radio towers may not be the best camouflage."

Her mother snorted. "Told them to fix that ages ago."

"Who they hell are these people. What do they want?"

"They're called the Black Sun."

Charlie turned back to her mother, the battle escalating with each passing minute.

"The who?"

Margaret sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the chaos before she dipped her head, coming to some sort of conclusion.

"Charlie, I wasn't fully honest with you. The augments are not just for ISIS."

Charlie paused, her brows low.

"What are you talking about?"

Margaret sighed, clearly torn by what she needed to say. "It's something your father and I should have told you about years ago. This is our mistake that you're not prepared, but there's little choice now." She glanced over the desk before she gave Charlie her full attention. "We're trying to stop another force from unleashing chaos within our world. One that's more powerful than anything you could imagine."

"And what's that?"

"They're called the Black Sun. They're a group hell bent on chaos. We've gotten word that they're trying to impart a . . . substance that has the ability to control the mind of anyone it's injected into. Politicians, soldiers, everyday people. We've learned through intelligence that ISIS is a front for them."

"Are you seriously trying to make me believe some Illuminati shit in the middle of a firefight."

"I'm trying to get you to understand that there's more at stake. Who do you think introduced you to _Star Trek_? I know about the Federation, and a lot of what you've probably seen. What we're doing is bigger than that."

Just then, the base's security arrived, twenty men and women armed to the teeth and in attack formation. They advanced slowly into the room, their focused on the back corner where the intruders had holed out – one of them pulling information from the computer as the others provided cover fire.

Charlie turned back to her mother. "What the hell could be bigger than the Federation?"

"The entire galaxy." Charlie blinked in disbelief. "Ok, listen. This group is delimited by the Vril," Margaret continued as Charlie cocked her head, looking at her mother like she sprouted three heads. "I know you don't know who or what that is but know this; if they get the power they so desperately want now, you won't have the Federation to go back to."

Charlie blinked, the fight momentarily forgotten as she stared into her mother's knowing eyes. "How did you—"

"Charlotte, I'm your mother. I know there's a lot you don't think I understand about you, but I see you, as you are now. I don't know everything you went through there, but I see how it's changed you, and I know that's where you belong."

Tears welled up in her dark brown eyes. Tears of hope, and acceptance, and understanding.

Those tears changed, however, when a shout of pain was heard. A shout that caused Charlie's heart to involuntarily drop.

She turned and saw the man collapsed on the ground, his gun just out of reach from his hand.

"DADDY!"

Margaret grabbed the sides of Charlie's head, her hands shaking and her face white.

"Charlie, get your friends and your sister, and get out of here. Rachel knows where my plane is. Tell her to take you to BK. She'll know what that means."

"I can't leave you—"

"Get out of here! That's an order."

"But mom!"

"NO! I don't want you caught up in this. There's too much." Her green eyes flickered over to her husband, and then back to Charlie, scared, but resolute. "Just go, I will get in contact with you through back channels." She pulled her daughter to her chest, squeezing her for all she was worth before she threw Charlie toward the door, the soldiers finally gaining enough ground against the intruders and creating a chance to escape. "Now go!"

With tears in her eyes, Charlie called for the others to follow her. They answered without question, except for Rachel who was fighting tooth and nail in McCoy's arms, shouting that she was going to kill whoever shot their father.

Charlie stood by the door, making sure everyone was out before she followed, turning behind at the last minute to see her mother kneeling next to her father, firing his gun with hell in her eyes. Then the smoke washed across, blocking her view as someone grabbed her hand and pulled her into the dark. As she ran, the tears fell.

* * *

They sprinted up the ramp as the alarms continued to sound, their flashing lights leading the way. Charlie and Rachel both knew the base was on lockdown, and if they didn't get out in the next few minutes, they weren't going to get out. Both girls had tears streaming down their cheeks while McCoy and Jim made sure to keep them running. As they spun around the corridor, they saw the other four waiting for them next to the door to their escape.

"Where have you lot been?" Scotty practically shouted. "All hell's breakin' loose!"

"No time," Jim said. "We need to get out of here, now. Everyone, up the ladder. Go!"

There was a mad scramble as they tried to all fit in the small room. Rachel was the first one up, throwing open the door to the mountain top and sprinting to untie the horses.

Charlie and Jim helped guide the crew up the ladder until they were the only two left. Charlie glanced back down the hall, her lip between her teeth.

"You can't go back for them," Jim said, a knowing look in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Charlie turned back to him, tears continuing to swell, but staying within her lashes. With a nod, she began her climb, Jim closing the door behind as he followed her up.

By the time they reached the top, everyone was already in the saddle, Rachel and McCoy holding the reigns for Spirit and Jim's gelding. Spirit must have sensed the urgency, for she was as still as stone, her ears pointed back as she waited for her rider. She knew it was time to run.

And run they did. Even Scotty who was the most hesitant when it came to riding was flying like the wind down the mountain. The moon was out now, full and bright and lighting their way as if it were sunlight. They followed the road this time instead of cutting cross country, the lack of light and steep terrain just asking for a broken horse leg.

By the time they were to the main road, the boys were already waiting, Rachel calling them the minute she was out the door. They didn't ask questions, the urgency in her voice all they needed to know.

"Eric, I need your keys," Charlie said before they were even off the horse.

"Wha— Why?"

Charlie leaped down from Spirit, giving the reigns to Johnny before she twisted, holding her hands out to the young airman who without thinking placed the keys to his SUV in her hands. "Because we have a plane to catch."

"What are you talking about?" Jim asked confusedly as they all began to dismount.

"Mom told me to take her plane and go find BK." She turned to her sister as the boys started loading the horses. "She said you'd know what that means."

"Your mom has a plane?" Sulu's brow rose in surprise.

"Apparently," Charlie shrugged. "Think you can fly it?"

"I can fly anything."

Charlie's attention moved back to her silent sibling. Rachel's red-rimmed eyes were like saucers. Her short black hair was disheveled and even with the dark, Charlie could see she was shaking. They'd grown up in a military family, sure but hearing the stories and actually having to fight were two very different things.

"Rachel," Charlie barked without heat when she didn't answer, her sister finally focusing on her. Charlie gripped her shoulders firmly. "I know you've never experienced this before but dig deep. I need you. Mom and . . . and Dad need you."

"Spitfire, give her second," McCoy stepped in.

"We don't have time," Charlie argued. "For all we know those people could have followed us up there and are tracking us now. Did you not see they were the same as the ones that brought us here?"

"Wait, you saw them?" Scotty asked. "The buggars tha' dropped us here? They attacked you lot?"

"Until Charlie electrocuted them," McCoy added.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "It was only a couple of them."

"Nice," Sulu smiled approvingly.

"If they're who Charlie thinks they are, they could be coming for us. They know we followed them," Uhura added. "I got their chatter through the base's communication system. They didn't sound happy either."

"Then we need to get moving," Jim ordered. "Rachel, where is BK?"

Rachel took a deep breath as she faced the captain. "London. We have to go to London."

Charlie's arms dropped, her face now echoing her sister's. "Why do we have to go to London?" she asked. "What is BK?"

"That's where she lives," Rachel answered. "BK is her codename. Stands for British Kate."

Charlie did jump then. "British Kate? As in _my_ Kate? Kate Aldridge?"

The crew all shared shocked glances as Rachel nodded. "Yes."

"Ok, how do we get to the plane to take us to her?" Sulu asked, just as alarms began blaring in the mountain, helicopters heard in the distance.

"The plane's at the Colorado Spring's airport, next to Peterson," Rachel explained. "But we don't have clearance or access."

"Let us worry about that," Jim affirmed. "After all, we didn't have clearance here either."

"Is there enough space to fit in the vehicle you request?" Spock asked as he skeptically surveyed the large red Chevy Blazer.

Charlie shook the shock away, her hands fisting around the keys.

"Yes, but three will have to ride in the back. I promise I won't kill anyone."

"You better not or my dad will kill me," Eric yelled as he closed the trailer door.

"Load up," Jim ordered, a pointed look directed at Charlie. Everyone scrambled to not have to be the ones in the back, but Scotty, Sulu and Spock ended up drawing the short straws as they folded themselves in.

Charlie jumped in the driver's seat with Jim shotgun. Time was of the essence, and while her sister was a wiz at many things, she drove like a grandmother.

Rachel quickly gave instructions for her crew to take the horses back and take care of them before she jumped into the vehicle. The tires spun and gravel was thrown as Charlie gunned it down the mountain.

It was past midnight and the roads were clear, taking only fifteen minutes to make it to the airport. Rachel directed Charlie down a dark, dirt road toward a hangar bay. There was only a chain-link fence keeping intruders out that Charlie busted through in nothing flat. The tires squealed as she skidded to a stop next to the hangar that Rachel pointed out. Charlie turned to the back seat to order everyone out when she saw the looks directed her way.

"What?"

"Spitfire, if I wasn't a doctor, I'd kill you," McCoy growled, his accent defined more than normal and his hands clutching the handle in a white-knuckle grip.

She rolled her eyes as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "Yeah, but did you die?"

"When my stomach is back in its proper place, I'll let you know," Uhura muttered queasily.

"Let your sister drive next time," Jim added as he took the keys out the ignition and passed back to Rachel.

"I swear, it was not that bad," Charlie grumbled in annoyance.

The crew filed out, running to the shadows of the hangar. Rachel input the code to the door, throwing it open to let everyone in, and then shutting it with a snap. In the middle of the giant hangar was one plane, a Lear jet with two tail engines. There was already a ladder next to the plane, allowing the crew to board quickly.

The jet was beautiful, with soft white leather and navy-blue carpeting. A couch and several arm chairs were in the back, a table surrounded by four more chairs in the middle, and then two rows of traditional airline seating, albeit the seats were larger and far cushier.

"Jesus," Charlie breathed as she stepped inside. "Where the hell did mom get this?"

"Part of working for the CIA," Rachel shrugged.

"Wait, when did mom go the CIA?!"

"After you disappeared," Rachel said as she headed to the cockpit with Sulu. "Figured their resources would be able to find you."

Charlie paused, blinking blearily by the shock from the lengths at which her parents had gone to find her. Her mother went all the way to the CIA to try to see what happened to her. Now it all connected, it all made sense how her mother believed her so quickly. She knew, she must have known something else had happened in England. Then another thought struck, Charlie hurrying to the cockpit as everyone else took their seats and tried to figure out the buckle system.

"Wait, if we're going to London, what about customs and clearances? None of us have passports, and I didn't see you grab yours."

Rachel was already in the co-pilot seat, the headset on as she started to warm the engines and open that hangar door. "We'll use the call sign five six Alpha Charlie Tango Niner. We'll sail right in then. Besides, the tower just connected with us. Someone filed a flight plan for us, full clearance. I think mom had her people call which means we're going to be taken care of on that end too."

Charlie blinked. "Oh. Ok then."

Sulu turned. "Charlie, go sit. Your sister and I can handle this."

Charlie nodded, and headed to the back, taking the seat next to Jim and across from Uhura. Sooner than she thought, they were taxiing down the runway before the nose lifted and they were in the air headed east. To what? Charlie didn't know.

* * *

It was raining as the jet cleared the cloud cover and the rolling green fields of England rose below them. Charlie's eyes were gritty, her sleep disturbed by images of swirling black cloaks, glowing masks, and the clashing of battle. She tried to suppress her yawn, only the thought of being back in the UK giving her enough adrenaline to focus.

Sulu and Rachel took turns catching catnaps, the autopilot controls taking them most of the way across the Atlantic. Everyone else had merely spread out on the couch, their chairs, or as Scotty proclaimed, the floor was just fine.

Charlie had a lot to think about. First was how her ending up in the 23rd century may have altered her parents' career course. Her mother had never been interested in the CIA, never thought about anything but military intelligence and working with airmen. Now she was a clandestine member for a government operation that led her to create the very things they were trying to fight against. And her father no longer taught at the Academy he loved, encouraging the new generation of engineering with his own projects on the side. He was elbow deep in it now. All because of the blood that flowed in her veins.

Next was Kate. She was about to see her best friend again. The way her father spoke about the mental hospitals, and their treatments, Charlie was scared about what happened to her and Philippa. What did they go through when they returned? How were the reactions? Apparently, they didn't end up back right when they left so time travel was still linear in some forms. She had so many questions, and since she was helping pilot the plane, Charlie didn't have the opportunity to hound her sister.

All these thoughts swirled in her head as the plane landed with a gentle bump, taxiing to a hanger off of the executive airport's runway. Charlie didn't recognize where they were, only that they were outside of the city somewhere. The rain lashed the windows of the plane, beads of water rolling down as Charlie stared at the overcast sky.

As soon as they were inside the hangar, three dark SUVs pulled in with one dark suited individual stepping out. He stood there, a tall, well-build dark man waiting for them to exit the plane.

"Who is he?" Uhura asked as the crew crowded around the windows. No one moved to open the door and descend from the plane. The man didn't move a muscle except to clasp his hands together in front and wait.

Already irritated by the lack of decent sleep, Charlie stomped over to the main door. "I don't care who he is. I'm ready to figure out what the hell is going on."

She threw the door open before anyone could stop her and stomped down the steps onto the tarmac. The others had no choice to scramble after her.

"Charlotte and Rachel Noland?" the man's deep voice asked, his dark eyes roaming over the group. His accent was American, which surprised Charlie.

"Yes?" she answered.

His black eyes locked to hers. "I have instructions from your mother to take you and your team to one of our analysists. Do you require assistance with luggage?"

Charlie's brows rose in surprise. "No, this is all we have. Have you heard from our mother? Is she ok? What about our father?"

"Negative," he shook his head as he gestured for doors to be opened. "The only information I have is to pick you up and deliver you. Your mother only said she would get in contact in the next few days."

"Wait. What's the password?" Rachel questioned skeptically, crossing her arms, her stance poised for fight or flight, the rest of the crew echoing her sentiment.

The man didn't miss a beat as his attention moved to her. "Sum amicus est tibi." Rachel dropped her guard and nodded to the crew, letting them know it was safe. "If you have nothing else, please proceed into the vehicles."

Charlie and Rachel shared worried glances. It wasn't like their mother to be that secretive, or to not at least let them know if their father was even alive. That's when a horrible thought crossed Charlie's mind. Was her father dead? Had he been shot because she gave away the secret entrance so the Black Sun or whoever they were could find a way in? Did she lead them right to her parents because of her overinflated moral compass?

Her mind swirled with all the horrible possibilities until she felt a gentle hand on her back, guiding her to one of the vehicles. With a glance up a Jim's concerned gaze, she pushed her worries aside to focus on the task at hand.

It took over an hour of winding through little villages, small towns, urban boroughs and finally into London itself before Charlie recognized where she was. They passed the Eye, Big Ben, and Westminster. They wound through back alleys, double backed to different locations, and spent time sitting in the traffic that London always seemed to have. Soon enough they turned down a side street of tan and cream Georgian style townhomes, stopping in front of an inconspicuous grey-brick building in the middle of the block. The black door and iron fencing were shiny and new, the front pavers were level, and the garden bushes newly trimmed.

The sky continued to be grey and foreboding, but the rain had changed over to mist, and the cold winds had died down. The crew stepped out of the vehicles into the damp air, checking up and down the street even though it was silent except for a passerby or two. As soon as they were out, the SUVs drove away, leaving them on the street in confusion.

"What now?" Uhura asked, both Rachel and Charlie shrugging. The black door opened, and a redheaded woman poked her head out. Her copper tresses were cut to just under her chin, and her face was skinnier than she remembered, but otherwise Kate was exactly the same.

"Kate!" Charlie shouted, throwing open the iron gate and running up the path.

"Charlie!" Kate answered, running out and throwing her arms around Charlie's shoulders in an air-mitigating hug. The friends had tears in their eyes as they broke away, both taking in the changes in each other.

"You've gotten strong!" Kate noticed, her accent a soothing balm as she squeezed Charlie's bicep. "And I like your hair long."

"Look at yourself. You've got some muscle definition too!" Charlie countered, rubbing her ribs. "Pretty sure you cracked one." There was a tightness behind Kate's dark, almond eyes, the lines deepening just a fraction.

"Oh hello, Captain. Mr. Spock," Kate said, noticing the group behind her.

"How are you doing, Kate?" Jim asked, leaning in to give her a hug and quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'm doing well, thank you Captain."

"Miss Aldridge, I'm pleased to see you again." Spock nodded, his arms clasped behind his back.

"Please, everyone, come in. Your mother called me this morning, we have a lot to discuss." Kate stood aside, holding the door open so everyone could enter, making for the sitting room where a warm fire burned in the fireplace, and tea was already set out. Charlie was the last in, giving Kate another hug.

"I missed you so much," she whispered. "You're the only one who could understand what it was like."

"I know," Kate answered, squeezing one last time before letting go. "A lot of things changed when we came home. Come, I'll explain."

Once everyone had a warm mug, a few biscuits, and had been introduced to Kate's gorgeous springer spaniel Otto, she sat on the arm of the couch to describe what happened after she and Philippa returned.

Just like Charlie thought, they arrived back in Bristol in about the same timeframe as they spent on the _Enterprise_. Everyone was surprised when they reappeared, especially the police who had led months' long exhaustive search for them. They interviewed the girls for days, trying to figure out where they went and what happened. Kate and Philippa tried to explain their adventure, and who was behind it, but no one believed them. How could they? It was impossible that they traveled into the future, into a reality that doesn't exist except in entertainment. MI6 and the CIA were brought in, and they couldn't crack the girls' stories.

Once they started talking about Klingons, and maniac professors, their families decided that they must have been drugged for months or brainwashed by the captors that the police were never able to find. They were placed in mental institutions in order to "change them back." Kate didn't go into many details, but her face darkened as she explained, and her eyes clouded in memory. Eventually, she learned just to shut up about her experience, to agree with what the doctors said, that it was all in her mind because of the drugs she was forced to ingest. But in reality, she knew she was right. Philippa, unfortunately, never recovered, and ended up disavowing everything that ever happened to them, believing Charlie was killed as they tried to escape whatever prison the doctors said they were in.

The hardest thing was to tell Charlie's family that while she and Philippa made it home, Charlie never would. Robert had taken it hard, harder than Charlie thought. Kate described what happened when her parents arrived at the hospital in Bristol, only to be told Charlie wasn't there. Apparently, a few walls ended up with holes in them.

Philippa didn't want anything to do with Charlie's family, but Kate wanted to meet them. She tried to tell them that Charlie was ok, but Robert wasn't having it. Once he went outside to cool off, Margaret questioned Kate more. Margaret saw the truth in Kate's eyes, and they decided to stay in contact, to discuss options once the time came. Margaret knew that Kate never stopped believing, and while she didn't think the whole idea of Charlie being in the future was true, she did believe that there had to be away to get to Charlie.

Slowly, her and Kate started devising a plan into understanding matter manipulation and the space-time continuum. Kate's uncle was a brilliant astrophysicist, and with his help, along with some connections to different covert agencies around the world, they started a new project to find and predict space and matter anomalies. It was surprisingly helpful in rooting out underground terrorists around the world, especially with Kate's background in archaeology and research. Eventually, she was brought into the fold.

"And I've been working for CIA since," she shrugged.

By the time she was done, the sun had set, and the jet lag had caught up with the crew. Even Spock appeared bleary eyed in the soft light of evening.

"Let me show you to your rooms," Kate smiled, no way upset by the lack of enthusiasm from her friends. "From what Dr. Noland said, you've had an interesting couple of days. We'll speak more later."

The crew all nodded and headed off to bed. Tomorrow, the real challenge begins.

* * *

 **Fun fact, getting rear ended multiple times by a semi that then shoves you through an intersections and spins you out really sucks and it makes for a terrible get away vehicle. Good news, they caught him. Bad news, I have a screwed up neck and fun times in court coming. Positive energy is very much appreciated!**


	9. Chapter Nine: An Innocent Warrior

**Chapter Nine: An Innocent Warrior**

The day started off with tears and goodbyes. Rachel and Charlie's mother contacted them that morning, ordering Rachel to return home. The Academy resumed classes that next week, and there was nothing more the youngest Noland could do for the crew and her sister. Their mother remained mum on the condition of their father, however, a fact that worried both girls.

In front of the inconspicuous row of houses, where a line of imposing black SUVs sat idling, the crew of the _Enterprise_ each said farewell to Charlie's sister, brushing away the wetness on their cheeks and blaming it on the pollution, or the pollen, or whatever excuse they could think of. Sulu and Scotty enveloped her in a giant bear hug, Uhura promised to overnight her clothes back to her once they had a chance to go shopping, and McCoy promised he'd keep an eye on the two terrors. Finally, it was just the two sisters and the captain standing in the cloudy, cold air.

"Will I ever see you again?" Rachel asked, her green eyes misty as they jumped between the couple. Charlie glanced up to Jim, worrying her lip between her teeth.

"I don't know," she sighed, her attention moving back to her little sister. "I don't know what's going to happen."

Rachel nodded, as if expecting that answer. "I let you know what's going on at . . .home. Once I know."

"And I'll keep you up-to-date here."

Rachel shuffled her feet, making no move toward the cars. "Will you let me know if—"

"Yes." Charlie didn't need to say it; her sister already knew. The first chance to go back, they were going to take it.

Again, Rachel nodded. Without a word, she launched herself into Charlie's arms, her sister's reflexes the only thing stopping them from crashing to the ground.

"I love you," Rachel breathed into her sister's hair, hugging her for all she was worth. "And kick those dicks ass, if you ever find them."

Charlie smiled morosely, squeezing back. "I'll do my best. Be safe going back. I'm so proud of you."

The sisters released each other, Rachel running a hand under her nose as she turned to Jim. "I know she can do it herself, but take of my sister, Captain. I'm trusting you."

Jim smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling, warmed by the faith of Charlie's sister. "I promise."

They hugged quickly, Rachel sniffling as she took a few hesitant steps backwards to the cars before she turned down the sidewalk. Without looking back, Rachel hopped into the back of the middle one, the cars taking off just as a light rain began to fall. Charlie didn't know if she could see her, the windows tinted black, but she waved anyway, watching as they turned the corner and disappeared.

Charlie's arm dropped slowly, surprised by the emptiness worming its way into her heart. The cold was kept at bay as an arm draped around her shoulders, pulling her against a strong chest.

"You alright?" Jim asked understandingly.

Charlie took a deep breath, the cold air filling her lungs and clearing the tears.

"Yeah." She turned to him, rising to her toes her lips brushing his. "Eventually. Let's get to work."

Closing the heavy door behind them, Charlie found the crew lounging around the front sitting room, a warm fire casting its glow on that dreary day. Uhura and Sulu were reading magazines sprawled on the couch, McCoy had an old medical book open, thumbing through and muttering to himself while Scotty was programming something on Kate's tablet for her dog, Otto. The only ones missing were Spock and the redhead herself. Moments later, Kate nudged the kitchen door open, a platter in her hands with different sandwiches and a pot of tea, Spock trailing behind with his own platter. Shaking her head, Charlie didn't realize how much she needed the scene before her.

Once deposited, Kate dusted her hands, her face alight with joy with having the crew in her house.

"You know I just asked for a glass of water," Sulu said, his eyes huge taking in the spread.

Charlie laughed as she and Jim took the open spaces on the love seat. "Sulu, something you need to understand about Kate is her impeccable manners. Part of it is being British, the rest is just her."

Kate just sent her a wink. "Missed you too, you silly American."

"Alright, let's start figuring this out," Kirk began, taking one of the scones. "Kate, why are we here? Why did Charlie's mom send us to you, besides the whole CIA thing?"

A switch seemed to go off, Kate nodding as she wound around the front two arm chairs and switched on the large TV that hung over the fireplace. Displayed was the screen of her computer, the wireless hook up already activated.

She sat down in the white, high backed armchair in front of her, her silver computer coming to rest on her lap. With deft fingers, a dark map was displayed on the screen, various points across Europe highlighted with different size and colored circles. Some were green, some were yellow, and others red. They were as small as pinpricks to covering several hundred square miles. Scotland, Ireland, Norway, Northern France, and parts of the Italian alps had the largest concentration of circles.

"Ever since we went into your time, I've become fascinated with the idea of temporal activity," she began, her attention roaming over the crew. "As I said yesterday, through working with my uncle, as well as the British and American governments, I began researching this idea of anomalies within our continuum and beyond. We couldn't have been the only ones to have ever disappeared like we did. And I was right."

Kate highlighted the moors of Ireland, zooming into the hills around Galway Bay. "I'm going to use Ireland as an example. There have been folktales going back centuries of people disappearing into fairy hills, stone circles, or vanishing in thin air. Some came back, but many didn't. So, I started plotting where they happened. Turns out, there are places on this planet where what I like to call 'temporal hotspots' seem to be active; think of it like the ring of fire in the Pacific. Where these latitude and longitude lines cross is where we find the largest insurgence of disappearances and reappearances.

"And here." She moved to the English Channel, switching the map to a terrain base, eliminating the water present. "10,000 years ago, the English Channel was a land bridge. Following this line of longitude here, you can clearly mark stone rings and burial mounds, even under the sea."

Charlie did see the correlation, the way the lines converged with the different points where they should be. There were a few outliers, such as their disappearance in Bristol where there were no lines of latitude or longitude crossing through their points, but the majority of the data Kate had followed her theory.

"Do you believe that the planet's magnetic structure to be the cause?" Spock asked, his focus on the screen.

"It's possible," Kate agreed. "Granted, correlation doesn't mean causation, but there's too much of a coincidence. I've been working recently on what's be causing these occurrences. Like with us, I wonder if the ability to create a nanowormhole could be a time tunnel. Until recently, it had only been a theory."

"What changed?" Uhura asked.

"You all." Kate pointedly caught Charlie's attention. "I got a call the other day from Dr. Noland, and she explained that you had reappeared, claiming to have been in the future, exactly like Philippa and I said years ago. She had done a sweep of the land and got some interesting data that she sent to me. She was able to document the magnetic structure change in the woods behind your house. It matched several other recordings I've gathered. Including one around the same time you appeared, but here in London."

Charlie sat up. "The same time?"

Kate shrugged. "Close. Maybe a thirty-minute difference."

Charlie caught the rest of the group's attention, they all flashing back to the ceremony and the masked intruders.

"Those damn fools," McCoy growled. "Taking that little girl."

"What are you talking about?" Kate asked.

"Kate," Charlie said to gain her attention, needing her to understand. "We came here using almost the same process when we fell through in Bristol."

"But I thought there wasn't any Red Matter left?" she questioned. "And didn't you destroy the Boradis Station so that the research couldn't be found?"

"We did," Jim agreed. "And to our knowledge after you and Philippa were sent through the transporter that was the last of it. But we also didn't know about Section 31, or the Vengeance project either," he added dryly.

The rest of the group nodded in agreement, except Kate with her perplexed expression.

"I'll tell you later," Charlie commented with a wave of her hand. "What I was getting at before is we came here using the same processes. But we weren't dropped in like you and I were. We jumped."

"Speak for yerself, lass," Scotty grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"OK, at least I did," Charlie rolled her eyes. "Anyway, there was group that attacked us at a reception. They targeted Jim and a child – a little girl. They took her and jumped into the vortex before the rest of us followed. We landed in Colorado and I didn't see any indication of them anywhere."

"You think they landed here?"

"It is a possibility," Spock agreed slowly. "Although the Narada entered our universe before Ambassador Spock, the ships appeared in two different parts of the quadrant and twenty-five years apart. Theoretically, the attackers with the child may have landed somewhere else on the surface of Earth."

"But by what, half an hour?" Jim remarked.

"You said yourself that it was decades," Sulu added. "They could be weeks behind us, or years ahead."

Spock acknowledged their argument, injecting, "Unless they were able to replicate the same process as Cadet Noland's predecessor."

"Sagan did say Edward stabilized the matter," Charlie remarked, thinking. "He was able to pick a landing point. It just had to be over a hundred years, local travel was way harder."

"And we came back within a few weeks of our disappearance," Kate supplied. "When you're talking about going through time, that's on target."

"All we're doing is guessing," Uhura pointed out. "Is there a way we can see where they landed? See if we can find evidence of them. Could be it was something else entirely."

"Uhura's right," McCoy said. "How do we even know it was those bastards who landed and not some blip in your equipment? No offense."

Kate's eyes narrowed threateningly, but she replied cordially, "None taken. I suppose I could request access into London's surveillance system. Look and see if it was an appearance or a . . . blip."

McCoy shrugged innocently when Uhura nudged him. "What? It's bad enough we're stuck in this plague-ridden Petri dish, I don't trust that this dark age technology can do what we need it to do."

Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation while Charlie shook her head. Lucky for them, Kate was already familiar with the doctor's surly behavior.

"It may take time," Kate continued, ignoring McCoy. "I'll have to go through the appropriate channels before I get authorization."

Bones rolled his eyes. "The bureaucratic mentality is the only constant in the universe."

"Do what you can, Kate," Charlie said. "If we can find them, it's our obligation to get that little girl back. Whatever it takes."

* * *

It took two weeks before Kate received the necessary permissions to access the city's surveillance systems. For two weeks, the crew tried to keep themselves occupied, touring London, shopping for clothing since they only had those on their backs (curtesy of the American government), and overall getting into Kate's hair.

Scotty had already torn apart the vacuum, an old rotary dial phone that belonged to Kate's grandfather, and her desktop computer. Sulu and Charlie decided to practice fencing using sticks from the garden, attempting to keep up with their training until the neighbors called police complaining. McCoy's irritability was increasing each passing day, finding fault with everything, including the weather till Kate finally unleashed on him, her temper matching her hair while Uhura and Charlie sat back with some popcorn, enjoying the chastised doctor cower from her rage.

With eight people crammed into a three-bedroom, two-bathroom townhome, tempers were sure to fly. Kate, Charlie and Uhura had to fit into one bedroom, Jim and Bones another, and Scotty and Sulu the last while Spock, claiming all he needed was time to mediate, slept on the couch downstairs. They bickered like siblings, their cohabitation straining their already fried nerves. They took turns going out into the world, groups of two wandering to do the grocery shopping, or visit the museums and cinemas. Poor McCoy was recognized once while he and Jim were out getting the next three days' groceries. The already prickly doctor had to try to play the actor that the girls claimed him to be until he was able to scurry away, Jim trying hard not to laugh at his misfortune.

Charlie meanwhile received updates from her mother almost daily. The crew's infiltration of Cheyenne Mountain went unnoticed thanks to the arrival of the Black Sun. They're attempted heist of the augment research swept away any evidence of Charlie being there, all off it attributed to the rogue group. Most of them were either captured or killed, but a couple individuals managed to make it out before being caught, much to her mother's chagrin.

The biggest frustration Charlie had was finding out about her father. Anytime she begged her mother for more information the line suddenly went dead, or she changed the subject. Rachel was no help either, her sister having gone dark since going back. It was as if Charlie was suddenly cut off from all communication except through her mother, raising her suspicions for why she sent her and the crew to London. A lot could have changed in three years, and with Kate now on the payroll, could she trust her?

Charlie spoke to Jim about her concerns. He agreed there were red flags about her mother's behavior, and that although they have no choice but to trust Kate at the moment, certain details they'd keep to themselves until they knew for sure.

When it came to getting the surveillance, however, Kate could be described as persistent. The minute she knew about a little girl being taken, she practically lived on her phone until she could get the clearance needed to track the individuals. She narrowed down the area to only four city blocks, requesting all street, store, and personal camera footage she could find. Once she received it, the crew all sat down to review it, believing eight set of eyes were better than one.

They sat for three hours, four of the best videos displayed on the giant TV screen before one of the cameras flickered like caught by a gust of wind. Then the next. Then the next. From an alleyway, a group appeared, the first couple sticking their heads out, looking for traffic or passersbys. Then in twos and threes, some holding individuals strung between them, they began exiting like commuters from the subways. First they scattered left, then right, running across the street, or scurrying around the next corner. They all had backpacks that appeared stuffed, and it wasn't until one ran through, a black corner of fabric catching the wind that they knew for certain who they were.

The only problem is they hadn't yet seen the child. Was this the same group that attacked them? The only evidence they had was black fabric. None of the white masks, or weapons, or any other identifying feature could be seen.

A black van pulled up to the curb and stopped, its hazards on. Three of the cameras were blocked save one that looked up the street. A man nonchalantly walked out from the shadows and opened the back, looking left and right around the vehicle then behind. With a wave, several others followed, a mix of men and women who jumped into the back. One of them held a large laundry bag slung over his shoulder. The picture was fuzzy from so far away, but it appeared as if the bag was moving, like whatever was inside was trying to fight their way out.

He closed the doors, jogged to the front and jumped in the passenger side, the van taking off before anyone even realized it was there.

"Well that's not suspicious," McCoy announced as the van drove away.

"Can we track it?" Uhura asked.

Kate hit a few strokes on her computer. "I can try."

They watched the van weave through the city, the camera flashing back and forth as they watched the van enter the view and then leave again. Finally, after thirty minutes of tracking its progress, it went under a bridge but didn't come out again.

"Where'd it go?" Sulu questioned.

"Trying to locate." Kates fingers were a blur across the keyboard. With a deep growl she slumped back against the chair. "It's no use, there aren't any cameras on that side that I can locate."

Charlie caught Jim's eye, her hand instinctively finding his when the van appeared.

"Looks like we have to do it the old fashion way," she said.

Jim nodded in understanding. "Charlie and I will head over that way tomorrow, see what we can find. Maybe figure out the route they could have taken. Scotty, you and Spock help Kate find some alternative ways to locate where that van went."

"Aye, sir."

"Bones, it's you and Sulu for grocery duty tomorrow."

The doctor rolled his eyes as Sulu grinned.

"Uhura, try to get on the comm system here. Hamm radio? See if you can't find some of that same chatter we had back in Colorado. Maybe they're holding out somewhere in London like we are."

"Got it."

"Alright, we're closer than we were. Let's see if we can find these bastards."

* * *

The next day, Charlie and Jim set out. They found the bridge from the video, but after following the same road for another kilometer, it branched into two forks, both of which seemed long, dark, and headed out of London. There was also a weird dead zone of surveillance for London, not even the private doorbell cameras could point them in the right direction.

Dejectedly they turned around, knowing they wouldn't be able to find the child just on foot. As they headed toward the subway station, the hair on the back of Charlie's neck rose, glancing around at the small groups of people at the cafes and shops, her training kicked in to notice some disturbing patterns. Gabbing Jim's arm, she had him slow down, glancing into shops and pretending to look at café menus, using their windows as mirrors as she pretended to enjoy the sunny day in London. Jim picked up on it too, his own instincts kicking in.

"Charlie."

"I know. They've been following us for the last half mile."

"How many? I count two to the left. One by the dumpster, one in the shops."

"I have another three. Two at the café. Last one took an alley to try to cut us off."

"We can't fight five." She knew that. Even at their best, Charlie and Jim could maybe take on four. Maybe. Charlie's gaze roamed across the block.

"Over there," she jutted her chin to the right. "We can lose them in that market."

Jim nodded, reaching down to grab her hand as they veered across the street. "Stay behind me."

"I'll protect your six if that's what you mean." Charlie sent a glare at him from under her lashes, trying to keep her voice low as she noticed one leave the shop and the other two at the café stand. "I won't hide behind you."

"Charlie—"

"We're a team, Jim. For better or worse."

The little alley was lined with street vendors, their booths showcasing an assortment of items. From the Union Jack bedazzling every surface, to spices and teas, the crowded space made it difficult to move quickly, but hid them in plain sight. They wandered around, trying not to be obvious in their haste to lose their pursuers, but also avoiding dallying in one place for too long.

Charlie tried to act nonchalant, but her gaze traveled the crowd constantly in a vain attempt to keep them in her sight. She ignored the attempts to sell her a beautiful scarf, or the emerald like earrings that complimented her eyes, or even the wicked dagger that could easily be concealed in her boot. She perused with no intention of purchasing, and like driven by a sixth sense, the sellers began ignoring her and Jim, knowing no sale would come from them.

They made it to the other side, the only way out a thin alley lined with a couple of dumpsters. Realizing they're escape was more of a trap and needing speed on their side, both Jim and Charlie jogged through the alley, popping out into a small square walled by 19th century brick buildings. Scurrying to the small exit in the corner, a man materialized in front of them blocking their exit.

Charlie and Jim skidded to a stop as he withdrew a pistol, aiming it at their hearts. He was flanked by two others, all of them wearing varying shades of black and grey, a symbol of an eclipse tattooed next to their thumbs. From behind, a man and a woman blocked their chance to escape into the market, the woman pulling out a lethal looking knife as her partner picked up a metal bar propped against the brick.

"Can we help you gentlemen? And lady. My apologies," Jim said, his hands raised. Charlie's back connected with his, echoing his stance as she glared at the woman silently.

"We've been lookin' fer you," the one with gun spat, his accent thick and heavy.

"Well, you've found me," Jim replied. "But just so you know, I'm already taken and you're not my type."

"Oh, he thinks he's a funny man," the beastly man to his right barked, flexing his engorged knuckles threateningly. "Let's see how funny you are once _they_ get ahold of you."

"Who's 'they'," Charlie growled, unable to stop herself. "Actually, who the hell are you?"

"Ain't none of yer business," gun man answered. "Yer not got nothing ta do wif this."

"You bet your ass I do," she snapped back.

"Charlie," Jim growled out the side of his mouth.

"It's her!" the woman exclaimed, her hand closing around a gold pendant shaped in a circle with geometric like rays flaring off from the center hole . "She's one of _them_."

One would have thought Charlie threw holy water on a vampire the way they seemed to recoil and eerily hiss in her direction.

"Ummm, sure, yeah I'll go with that," Charlie acknowledged confusedly. "And if you don't want any problems, I would step aside."

"If we can kill one of them, we'd be kings," another said, his greedy eyes taking in Charlie's body till she shivered in disgust.

"Stay away from her." The voice was feral coming out of Jim's mouth, his body tensing in an instant.

"We take him alive," the woman ordered, smirking at Charlie. "Kill her."

The group rushed the pair. Charlie only had enough time duck before the metal bar went sailing above her head, missing her by millimeters. As she came up, she sent a right uppercut into the man's stomach, the air forced from his lungs in a gasp. He dropped to the ground, replaced by the woman who came flying over his back, the knife aiming for her neck. Charlie dodged to the side, her hand connecting with the woman's wrist, forcing the weapon away. It became an art of weaving and bobbing as Charlie tried to evade the knife, shuffling back and away. She didn't know where Jim was, could only hear grunts of pain and the soft drumming of fists connecting with flesh.

The woman continued to smirk, like a cat with a mouse she was enjoying the fear on Charlie's face. Something about her seemed almost inhuman. Maybe it was the red rims around her hazel irises, or the thick veins bulging out of the translucent skin on her arms, but she was like a demon possessed. Charlie's back connected with the wall, her sense of her space lacking. The woman lunged, Charlie sidestepping at the last minute as the blade connected with mortar and lodging itself between bricks. Charlie didn't even stop to think, her fist connecting with the woman's jaw and sending her reeling back.

Charlie didn't let her regroup, coming at her again and throwing punches until she got close enough to grab the woman's hair, sending her head into the wall next to the blade. Her forehead connected with a thump, stunning her enough that Charlie was finally able to get her arms around the woman's neck, locking her in a hold as she squeezed against the woman's external carotid artery with her bicep and forearm. Within seconds, the woman collapsed, the gold pendent Charlie noticed earlier catching and tearing off in her hand.

Charlie didn't have time to breathe as the man was in front of her again, his eyes bulging, and a scream tore through his throat. Charlie dodged the first fist but missed the second as it collided with her cheek, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. Stars exploded in front of her eyes as she fell onto the concrete, rolling out of the way as a boot came down where her head had been.

Scrambling to her feet, Charlie barely had time to prepare before the man launched himself into her sternum, sending them both back down to the ground. They rolled and grappled, fists flying as they brawled across the pavement. He managed to pin her, his hands wrapping around her throat in a panic inducing reminder of battles previous fought. Charlie flared around for a minute, her animalistic instinct taking over.

"Charlie! Charlie!" Jim screamed, her eyes desperately searching for his, the Starfleet Captain restrained by the two burly men, his lip cut and a dark bruise forming around his eye.

Black spots started popping as she tried to gasp for the air she needed. Glancing down, she noticed the metal bar the man tried to use before. Stretching her fingers out, she managed to grasp it and swing at his head, the metal and bone colliding in a gut retching crunch as he collapsed on top of her. She wheezed as his fingers went slack, the cold air burning and beautiful all at once.

As she shoved the body off her, Charlie could only watch horror stricken from the ground as the man with the gun pointed the barrel between her eyes. A mighty roar filled the square, the pain of it vibrating into her veins. Jim went ballistic. With a strength she had never seen before, Jim shredded limps from bodies, crushing skulls with his fists as he tore through his restraints like they were wet tissue paper.

The man with the gun didn't even have a chance to pull the trigger when his wrist was cleanly snapped like a twig, his scream sending chills along her skin. Fists connected with his skull, sending him flying into the wall. Jim didn't stop there, picking him up and slamming his head against the bricks again and again until a bloody circle was imprinted into the stone.

Only then did Jim drop the lifeless body to his feet, turning toward Charlie his harden face unrecognizable. She scrambled to her feet, her wide eyes taking in the scene surrounding them. She was shaking from head to toe, watching as whatever possessed Jim flee as fast as it came, leaving him with the same expression as he glanced around, raising his own shaking hands.

"Ok, what the fuck was that?"

"I-I don't know," Jim panted, staring at his hands as if he didn't know how they worked. "I don't know what that was."

"I've never seen you, or anyone, do . . . that."

He shook. "I have. On Qo'nos."

Charlie blinked. "What are you talking about? What's going on, this isn't like you?"

"I don't know," he wheezed. "I don't know how to explain it. I've been feeling it, more each day."

"Feeling what?"

"Like I want to punch something. No, that's not right. Like I want to kill something, or someone. I see these groups of people and I- I want to go berserk on them. No reason. Absolutely no reason. It's like I become so angry I just want to—" He turned, smashing his closed fist against the brick, causing the wall to shudder as dust rained down. Charlie took a hesitant step back, terrified of Jim for the first time.

He turned to her, his blue eyes glowing as if lined with red. He blinked once and it was gone, but they were forever burned into Charlie's memory. Jim saw her fear, her body tense and posed to run away. He'd never felt the shame that he did then, heat creeping up his neck. That alone is what drove whatever it was trying to claw its way out back into its cage.

"Charlie," he reached a hand out, Charlie stepping back further, her wide eyes jumping from his fingers to him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on. Please, I – I need you."

For one terrible moment, Charlie considered running. This went beyond anything she knew or felt capable of dealing with. But it lasted only milliseconds before she remembered what she said moments before the devil came out of Jim's finger tips: for better or worse.

She took a deep breath, reaching out to wrap her warm fingers around his cold ones, the roughness of his callouses and scrapped knuckles scratching against her palm. Just like at Cheyenne mountain, Charlie felt her warmth seeping into Jim's flesh. She could almost see a gold glow flow up his veins and encase him in a protective shield. Jim breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders sinking.

"Not to sound ridiculous, but when you touch me, that's when I feel like I can actually control whatever this is."

"I do what I can." She tried to smile, but it felt tight and forced.

"It feels like something is drawing me closer. Something is pulling at me to go."

"Where?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, somewhere else. Somewhere . . . north."

"North?" Charlie questions before her phone rang, both of them jumping in surprise. Reaching into her back pocket she saw Kate's face starring back at her.

"Hey, what's up?" She was impressed her voice didn't crack. Charlie didn't move her gaze from Jim's confused one as she listened.

"You and the Captain should come back. We've got something."

Charlie bent down and picked up the pendant she tore from the woman. "Same. See you in twenty."

"C'mon," Charlie said, ending the call and pulling Jim into her arms. "Let's head back. Kate says they have something, and maybe we should talk to McCoy."

Jim's arms wrapped around her as if terrified he'd never hug her again. Tears wanted to build, but she pushed them away as she felt him nod against her neck. The fish to fry were starting to get a lot bigger.

* * *

 **Reviews make great 30th birthday presents!**


	10. Chapter Ten: Lies, Damn Lies

**Thank you for the birthday wishes, and for everyone who's reviewed so far! This has been the most complicated story I've written to date, so I hope you're all enjoying/understanding/ loving what's going on!**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Lies, Damn Lies**

Chekov expected an interrogation the minute he reported to duty. Walking into the sunlit Starfleet Headquarters', his hat firmly atop his curls and his posture erect, Chekov anticipated a more forceful reaction to his appearance. Perhaps he'd be surrounded and escorted to some basement room. Or brought in front of a panel of admirals. Instead, all that happened were a few surprised glances casted his way as he hurried through the atrium, no one stopping him as he made is way up to one of briefing rooms.

Top command was meeting to discuss the attack on the rechristening the day before, trying to figure out who, what, and why. As the only member of the _Enterprise's_ bridge crew left, both Carol and Chekov agreed that it made sense for him to attend the meeting. Not only would they have a direct link to what was unraveling in the investigation, but they'd have courtside seats if something suspicious was happening, like they both suspected.

Stepping into the conference room while removing his hat and tucking it under his arm, he noticed the alarm on many of the admirals' faces, but no one jumped up and grabbed him. He felt his ears warm in discomfiture, all the attention new for the twenty-year old Ensign. Never having to be the one to attend those types of meetings, Chekov felt far removed from his element and he briefly thought about hightailing it out of there. But thinking of the captain and his missing crew, he stood a little taller and pushed down his fear, reminding himself that it was for them and Rima's little girl. Even if he wished he had taken a shot of vodka beforehand.

"Need some help, Ensign?"

Chekov jumped in surprise, not seeing the small woman as his elbow. Petite was almost too big a word to describe her. Her white hair was up in a high, curling bun atop her head, and her sparkling sapphire eyes were lined with wrinkles. She came up to maybe Chekov's chest and appeared as frail as a bird. But she had the bars of an admiral on her uniform, and while her eyes were kind, there was an underlining steel.

"Uh, yes, Ma'am," Chekov answered hesitantly. "I wanted to come, to find out what happened to my crew and contribute anyway I can."

She smiled, but was wary as she directed him toward a seat. "Well welcome. I was under the impression that _all_ of the bridge crew for the _Enterprise_ disappeared yesterday."

"Da, well, I was fortunate to have been nowhere near ze anomaly zat stole ze keptin and crew, Admiral-?"

"Mitchell, Ensign," she answered, taking the seat next to him. " We haven't had the chance to meet yet."

"No. I am pleased to meet you. I am Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreievich."

"If heard tale about you, Ensign Chekov. Acting Chief Engineer, graduating from the Academy at seventeen. You've developed quite the reputation."

"Ah, da Ma'am," Chekov said uncertainly. "I just do what ze keptin asks."

While Admiral Mitchell's smile never shift, her stance turned condescending, as if she couldn't believe his achievements were not from ambition. It's not that Chekov wasn't trying to get promoted, but it wasn't his main focus. Traveling the stars, the exciting adventures, his connection with the _Enterprise_ crew were all that mattered to him.

At the precise moment the bell on campus tolled the hour, a small contingent marched into the room, led by a formidable looking woman. She was tall, lithe, and her features severe. Her salt and pepper hair was piled on her head, her dark eyes sharp as she scanned the room, holding Chekov's just long enough to make him squirm before she moved on. Everyone rose to their feet as the assembly stood behind their respected places. With a nod from the woman, everyone sat, picking up the PADD in front of them.

As she read the report, the lines around her mouth turned them into a permanent scowl. She tucked herself into her seat in the middle of the table, her back remained ramrod straight as she scanned the room again. Chekov internally shivered, reminded of some of the Russian teachers he had before the Academy.

"Good morning." Her voice was clipped and higher pitched than Chekov would have thought. "Thank you for assembling so quickly. I see we have a few new faces among the group." She again caught Chekov's attention. "For those who don't know, I am Admiral Mae Jemison, Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet and a member of the Federation President's Joint Chiefs. I am here because we have a problem, ladies and gentlemen. A big one."

There was distinctive shuffling. "This the second attack we've experienced on our soil in less than eighteen months. I want answers. Who was this group? Why did they attack Captain Kirk and his crew? And most importantly, where are they now?"

No one made a sound. Chekov's eyes roamed the group, the only one who kept attention while Admiral Jemison was talking and not shuffling around like they had to explain why the dog ate their homework.

"Does no one have an answer?" Again silence.

"Ensign Chekov," she called, forcing the attention to move to him. Chekov visibly swallowed, his cheeks heating. How'd she know who he was?

"D-da, Ma'am," he answered.

"Perhaps you can answer me. Why does it seem your captain is always at the center of these incidences?"

Chekov blinked, unprepared for the question.

"Ah, bad luck?"

He could have kicked himself as the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Luckily, Admiral Jemison sat back smiling despite herself. "Not the answer I was looking for, but may not be entirely wrong." Once the coast was clear, the rest of the admirals chuckled. "What did you notice yesterday? And how were you not affected like the rest of your crew?"

Chekov's gaze scanned the table, but he found no support around the group. "As I told Admiral Mitchell, I was too far back to be awected by ze anomaly. I do not know how ze group triggered it or what it did with Keptin Kirk. Zey had some type of weapon that targeted our nerwous system. Ze closest weapon I could find came from ze 20th century Earth. A taser was what zey called it. But zis one zat was used against us was done wirelessly."

"So you're saying that this group took an ancient weapon that only worked on one person at a time and made it applicable for an entire assembly of people?" Although she asked the question, she didn't appear surprised, as if she knew something no one else did.

"Da. I do not know how."

She nodded, absorbing that information. "What else can you tell me?"

"Zey wore black cloaks?" he shrugged. "I apologize. Ze weapon zey used was so debilitating and ze anomaly so destructiwe, I do not know more zen zat."

"Were you able to get any readings once the anomaly disappeared? Any information of who they are, or how they created that anomaly?"

Chekov paused, trying to decide how to play the cards in his hand. Although Captain Kirk was the best at chess on the ship, Chekov was the only other one who could give the Vulcan and captain a run for their money.

"No, zere was nothing I could find." Her black eyes narrowed a fraction, sizing him up, but Chekov kept his poker face.

"Thank you," she answered. "It's good to have a firsthand account. What else do we know?"

"There are indications this may be the same group that gained attention on stardate 2259.09," a portly commodore spoke from the corner, throwing up on the screen in the front of the room still images of several small incidences. Every picture the group or individual wore a long black cape, and in a couple of the pictures they had on white masks with the image of a dark ring on the forehead. "They used similar tactics yesterday as what we've already recorded. Ancient weapons, large explosive presence, vanishing before we can respond."

Jemison studied the images, comparing the ones on the screen the ones on the PADD. She saw what Chekov did. They were the same.

"Alright, so then what do we know about this rogue group? Where do they originate from? Who are they affiliated with?"

"Unknown at this time," Admiral Mitchell spoke. "We've been working diligently with intelligence to learn as much as we can, but they act as ghosts. Appearing and disappearing on a whim. We do know that there was no evidence of their tactics before stardate 2259. They seem to have appeared right after the Boradis Situation. Now how they came into being, we don't have that evidence yet."

Chekov tried to not let his astonishment show. Whoever this group was showed up around the same time Charlie did. That could not have been a coincidence.

"Well then, what _do_ we know? And if you say nothing, this conversation is going to go very differently," Jemison scowled, her eyes narrowed threateningly.

"The incident yesterday has actually garnered some information that may help us," an Andorian captain said, sitting two chairs down from Chekov. "We were able to record a few unique signatures before the first blast. We believe it was their transporter signal, although it's unlike any transporter we've come across. That in itself may help us find them."

He turned to the screen, and using a flicking hand motion, broadcasted the information for the rest of the group to digest. Chekov swung his chair to face the wall, highlighting the information before he swung back toward the Commander-in-Chief.

"Good," she nodded, analyzing the readings herself. "This is priority one, ladies and gentlemen. We find this group, perhaps we can find where Captain Kirk and his crew disappeared to. Suggestions?"

The next hour was spent brainstorming ideas, plans, and strategizes for locating the rogue group. Should they use the signal to directly track their location? The surveillance footage provided insight in the nano black hole that appeared; Chekov watching with lead in his stomach as Charlie jumped in while the rest of the crew, including the captain were pulled into the vortex. Arguments broke out over who could possibly be behind the attacks. Are they spies for the Romulans or Klingons? Another unknown group?

Chekov didn't say much. Not only was he outranked by several degrees, he found it far more valuable to sit back and listen. Unlike on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , where they bounced ideas off one another, building and collaborating until they reached a reasonable solution, this group of admirals, captains, and commodores were more trying to argue why their idea was the best over the others. For Chekov, silence made it easier to dismiss egregious theories the moment they were said rather than counter why they were wrong with people that were not his crew. Plus, he could mark unique ideas for when he was back with Carol and Rima.

The only other silent one was Admiral Jemison. She merely sat back and watched, her black eyes assessing, finding many in the room wanting. Her calculating gaze felt as if Chekov was being probed like a scan, and he had to mentally remind himself that he'd done nothing wrong. He kept is face neutral, at least he hoped it was neutral, and tried to mark who said what when.

Finally, Jemison called an end to the discussion, authorizing the use to track the group, as well as using the footage to figure out how they created the black hole.

As command was dismissed, Jemison called out to Chekov, "Ensign. Please stay a moment."

Like caught at the principals, Chekov stood at attention with his ears heating painfully.

"I know the amount of loyalty among your crew," she began, her eyes never leaving the PADD in her hand as she jotted some notes down. "But your first priority is to Starfleet and the Federation." Her eyes flicked up to meet his.

"Ma'am?"

"If you happen to come across information that can lead to the capture of these people, even if it jeopardizes your crew, you will inform me. That is a direct order. Am I understood?"

Chekov held her gaze a moment, his lightning quick mind finding no alternatives. Frowning slightly, he gave one curt nod.

"Good. If more information becomes available as to the whereabouts of Captain Kirk, I will have my yeoman reach out to you. Dismissed."

* * *

Once he was left the doors of Starfleet HQ, Chekov headed back to his own apartment to shower, change, and check his room for bugs. Something about Admirals Jemison and Mitchell had his hackles raised. They were surprised to see him, but not relieved. It was as if having the _Enterprise_ crew gone made something easier for them, whatever it was. Chekov couldn't put his finger on it, and he honestly wasn't one for intrigue or political maneuvering. He usually left that for Commander Spock and the Captain. He was just there to solve problems, and defend the ship in a combat situation.

Although he spent several diligent hours going over his apartment with a fine tooth comb, he didn't find any evidence of surveillance equipment, but he made sure to leave his communicator and Starfleet pin in his room.

Trekking across the campus of Starfleet, all he could do was replay the ceremony and the destruction with it. Thirteen people had been killed in the raid. And that didn't count the loss of the captain and others. Where were they? What happened when they were sucked into the vortex? The only other time he'd seen anything like that, was when Charlie's friends were sent back to the 21st century.

Chekov tripped over his feet and almost crashed into the sidewalk. That's it. That's what he was missing. His head on swivel, he sprinted down the sidewalk, double-backing a couple times to make sure he wasn't followed before he found himself outside Rima's hotel door again.

He knocked, and after a few quick verification processes, Carol let him into the suite.

"I've got lots to tell you," he sprouted out the minute the door shut behind him.

In a mad rush, it took Chekov twice as long to let the two women know everything he saw during the meeting, slipping between Russian and English. He told Carol and Rima about the footage of the vortex and how similar it was to Charlie's situation. He also explained the dynamic between all the command personnel in the room as well as his interactions with Admirals Mitchell and Jemison, the latter had Carol scowling.

"She's a hard ass, and that's being nice."

"You know her?" Chekov asked, shocked.

"Not directly, but my Father had to deal with her," Carol answered. "She was basically his CO's CO. There's no rank higher than her position unless you're the President of the Federation. This is big if she's involved."

"Da, she led ze meeting," Chekov said. "Everyone seemed terriwied when she walked in. Here, let me show you."

Chekov opened his bag, searching around until he pulled out his PADD from its depths. He then withdrew a small stick from his pocket, no bigger than a toothpick, and inserted it into the side. With a few more deft keystrokes, a video image materialized. It was as if someone was observing the room from a chest pocket. Carol and Rima huddled around Chekov as the video continued, first with the interaction with Admiral Mitchell, and then the moment Jemison walked in.

"Yep, I'd know her anywhere," Carol said, squinting as she saw different people around the room who her father had interactions with, pointing them out as the meeting continued. They watched as Chekov was interrogated and the revelations about their signal. Chekov paused the video when the Andorian Captain provided the signal signatures they recorded.

"Zis was the ze most telling," Chekov said. "Zey beliewed zat zere signal was a transporter. But I do not zink so. I zink it was something different, like ze anomaly."

"I agree," Rima finally added to the conversation. "Transporter signals don't typically involve this frequency here," she pointed. "And the matter-energy conversion threshold shouldn't be this high."

"Zat was exactly what I was thinking."

"It looks like a weapons signature." Carol squinted, taking the PADD from Chekov as she pulled it to within an inch of her nose. "Rudimentary one, but very similar."

"You're not wrong, but how could they use a weapon to travel?" Rima asked.

"I'm not sure," Carol answered. "Maybe red matter has something to do with it? You said that vortex was like Charlie's," she added, handing the PADD back to Chekov. "Red matter was what you used, and Starfleet classified it as a weapon after the who Nero thing."

"We're still missing ze fact zat zere is no more red matter. I don't even know how to find any."

"Well," Rima said slowly. "Red matter is manufactured from decalithium, a rare isotope that the Narada was equipped to mine."

Both Chekov and Carol blinked at her. "Maybe if zat is what zey're using—"

"We can scan for that isotope," Carol finished. "Rima, do you know the exact composition that we can use to track the element?"

Rima's lips pursed. "I don't. But I may know someone who does. Give me a moment."

Rima grabbed her communicator and a PADD, disappearing into her bedroom and shutting the door. Meanwhile, Carol and Chekov hacked the hotel rooms computer, intertwining the tricorder into the mainframe, and hiding its signature. If they were going to scan Starfleet campus and the city beyond, they had to make sure they flew far enough under the radar to not trip off the admiralty to their plans. Starfleet was until recently considered the most secure area within the Federation – nigh impenetrable for unauthorized scans. Since Khan, security was beefed up further.

With their knowledge, Chekov and Carol knew they'd be able to get a wide enough range, and make it through the firewalls, but they would need to go slowly and subtle enough to blend it into the natural magnetics of the planet.

An hour later, Rima came out of the bedroom, slightly haggard and her eyes were red rimmed, but her composure was strong.

"I got it," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Had to call one of my contacts, but he got me the information."

"Are you ok?" Carol asked.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she swallowed. "We'll talk later. Let's see if we can find these people."

Chekov entered the information into the tricorder, being careful to keep the signal weak enough to lack detection, but strong enough to catch even the smallest signatures.

"Zis may take a while," he said. "Give me a few hours, and I'll see what I get."

The women nodded, going to back to the research they were working on before Chekov returned from the advisory meeting. True to his prediction, three and a half hours later, the tricorder began beeping. Chekov's head snapped up from the table as he wiped away the drool from the corner of his mouth. Blinking blearily, he pulled the machine toward him, checking the information. The points were faint but distinctive. Quickly jotting down the coordinates, he calibrated their locations a map of Starfleet and the surrounding city of San Francisco. The first drop was right in the middle of the square where the ceremony had taken place, exactly as he expected. The second one, however, was a few miles away down by the piers of San Francisco Bay.

"Gotch ya," Chekov said, feeling the first reactions of success he'd had since the captain and crew disappeared.

"You're wonderful!" Carol exclaimed when Chekov told her and Rima after they came back from running to get some food. "I know that area. It's past the bars, where the old city once stood before the great earthquake of 2092. There's lots of underground caverns where the city was rebuilt on top of the rubble."

"How do you know zis?" Chekov asked confused.

"I went on a tour once with my mum when we were visiting my father at Headquarters," she shrugged. "It's a great place to hid out in; nothing but a maze down there."

"Should we tell Starfleet?" Rima asked.

Carol thought a moment. "No, not until we check it out first. I don't want to spook the group if they're down there, and I don't want Starfleet to doubt us if we're wrong. Ensign, go back to your quarters and grab some gear. We're going down there tonight."

* * *

A few hours later, Carol and Chekov met up outside one of the bars near Pier 39. They were both dressed in black, a couple tricorders at their waist and their phasers hidden under their jackets. The wind had picked up, blowing off the water and chilling the air while the low hanging clouds promised rain. Slowly the fog rolled in, adding to the already eerie night.

Slowly they trekked along the different piers, their footsteps gradually becoming the only sounds as the streetlight glowed as giant flaming balls of orange. Rima decided to stay behind, tracking their progression in case the worst should happen, but also following up on more leads that had come from the contacts she'd reached out to.

Chekov pulled the tricorder off his belt, checking their location periodically until they were directly above the flashing blue dot. Glancing around, neither he or Carol could see a way down, the fog a shadowed wall. They spread out, searching for a door, manhole cover or stairs that would lead them to their destination, but nothing could be found. Dejectedly, they met back under the light post across the street from the bay. They began discussing other ways they could try to get into the catacombs when Carol threw her hand over Chekov's mouth, shushing him in the process.

Distantly voices echoed around them, thrown because of the fog. It wasn't that others had joined Chekov and Carol, even though they hadn't met another person in over an hour of walking. It was something said, a single phrase that caught their attention.

"They're getting a good response out of the girl, but Scythe lost the captain."

Chekov and Carol ducked around the corner of a building, its shadow hiding them as a group of three materialized through the fog on the other side of the street. They were dressed like Carol and Chekov in blacks and greys, but their clothing was different. They couldn't place it – maybe it was their use of denim, or the patchy look for a world that was clean and ordered. Whatever it was, both Carol and Chekov's instincts knew they were members of the group they were looking for. They were too different not to be.

"He brought Saber and Machete with him. How the fuck did he not get one lowly human?"

"This isn't some weak-ass human. He's got augment blood in him, and it's starting to show."

They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and faced the sea. Crouching down, they each lifted themselves over the short seawall, their landings muffled. Carol and Chekov hurried across the street, trying to remain as silent as possible without losing the group. Chekov whipped out the tricorder, their three signatures appearing under their feet. Glancing over the wall cautiously, all they could see was inky blackness and hear water lapping at the stone.

"Chto za chert?" Chekov cursed. "Where did zey go?"

"One way to find out," Carol answered, swinging her leg over the wall followed by another. Chekov grabbed her arms, helping to lower her downward toward the water. She hadn't gone more than three feet when her feet connected with a solid platform. Chekov quickly followed and once they both were on the other side, each hesitantly stepped forward until they felt a set of stairs leading down to the water's edge. Following, they found themselves outside a metal door cut into the wall.

Chekov checked for an alarm or lock, and finding none, slowly opened the door. A long black tunnel stretched before them, the voices of the group barely a whisper ahead. With one glance at each other, Carol and Chekov started down the black, their phasers in their hands and their ears alert.

The tunnel sloped downward gently, the concrete slippery from years of water and algae. They reached an intersection, three branches heading in different directions, and the voices long since faded.

"Which way?" Carol asked.

Chekov spun, his boots slashing in the inches of water. "Zis way. I think."

They took the left one, travelling further downwards under the city. Three more times they had to decide which tunnel, crawling over debris, and sometimes wading through water to their knees. Finally, they saw a light up ahead, the yellow, flickering glow of fire throwing shadows and demons onto the walls.

Carol's heart was in her throat and her eyes were wide as they tiptoed forward, the low sound of chanting reaching their ears. They crouched down and inched their way forward, pressed against the side of the walls as they rose just above the water. Peaking around the corner, both their eyes widen in horror by what they saw.

The room was full of caped individuals, their black hoods drawn over their heads and their bodies wrapped. They all swayed in the same pattern, the voices emitted a deep frequency that caused the hairs on Carol's arm to rise. After a moment, one near the front stood, turning on the platform toward the others, its face hidden behind a white mask, where only two holes for eyes and black circle of an eclipsed sun on the forehead were its defining features.

"Brothers and sisters," his voice echoed through the cavern. "The time is almost near. I have received word from our past selves that the experiments are working. Soon, the time will come where we let this world know who we are; where we will have a renaissance of the past for the future, and bring forth the Rising. They will destroy the Sun and the Earth will be transformed back to its natural state. We will usher in this aeon, and be rewarded with our true immortal forms upon the completion of this task. Our Rising will purify the world which humanity has poisoned and turned on end. Darkness will bring chaos, and that chaos will bring peace.

"The Vril chose us, for we are the purest of humanity. Rising is our power, our destiny, our definition, our vice, and our wisdom. We must be ready when the past calls. We've already started the destruction, and our leaders have linked us so we are stronger than we were before."

"But what about _them?_ " someone shouted. "Every time we've thought we've succeeded, _they_ stop us."

" _They_ aren't here. At least the ones that have any knowledge of the first war. If we can bring the Vril to this timeline, we will be unstoppable."

"What do they command?" another yelled, this time a woman.

Another caped individual stepped forward, taller than the first speaker. The new one regarded the group slowly before turning to the first, his deep voice echoing, "we'd need to find hosts."

"That will not be an issue. We don't have to use the humans. We have been blessed with other species. Andorians could be good conductors. Pretty volatile."

"Command said it has to be the other two groups."

"Well we can't bring them here, now can we?" the leader snapped. "We need to find a way to transport the Vril to them, at least until we have enough to build an army. The girl seems to work. If they can get the captain, they may be able to use them as the keys to hold the gate open."

"What about the augments?" the first shouter asked.

"Yes, of course why didn't we think of that?" the tall one sneered. "Except we did and if we knew where they were, they'd be what we'd need. Once Marcus was killed we lost that insight." Carol gasped, her blue eyes wide in surprise. Chekov quickly snap his hand around her mouth to stop any more sound, his own visage contrite. Luckily, the man kept talking, effectively hiding her voice. "They could be locked in Fort Knox by now for all we know."

The leader seemed to fill the cavern, his presence like a dark cloud, suffocating and ominous. "We didn't wait centuries for _them_ to die off, travel through time, and get lost in that damn quadrant to give up now."

There were grumblings from the group.

"Enough!" the leader shouted. "I asked you here to inform you of our progress. I want each squadron to breakoff, start planning your attacks for when the word comes. You know your assignments."

The group began shuffling, heading off to different corners. The leader and the tall one, however, began walking toward Carol and Chekov's hiding spot, both ducking back and pressing themselves against the wall as the others' shadows fell across the doorway.

"So what do _you_ think we should do?" the leader asked. "We have to have everything ready for this to work."

"I'm thinking," the deep voice answered. "If only that damned Starfleet filth hadn't interrupted our attack."

"What I don't get is how that chit wasn't hit with the electric shock. It didn't even touch her."

"I've been thinking about that too. It's weird, and I don't like not understanding it. She's the one that's sleeping with the captain, right?"

"So she's the flavor of the week, what does it matter? At least Blade was able to get the girl. Scythe got wrecked for not getting Kirk though."

"This is why we cannot fail the Command. Our mission is almost complete after a millennia of hiding just under the surface. In a matter of weeks, the Vril will be brought to this timeline and released so that they may finally be free of their enemies. Centuries of planning, all the lives our comrades lost, all the setbacks, failures, unlaunched wars, our faith has held strong and we will be rewarded as this universe crumbles. We are chaos."

"And Chaos is us," he answered.

* * *

 **As always, reviews are the bread and butter!**


	11. Chapter Eleven: Complications

**Hey all, sorry this is late. Had to take a trip out to Missouri to visit my ailing grandfather and then got caught in all the tornadoes that swept across Kansas this week. I now know what the inside of a Love's Truck Stop cooler looks like and my parent's brand new truck now has hail damage. For any of my readers in Kansas, Missouri, Oklahoma or Ohio I pray you and your families are safe.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Complications**

"What the hell do you mean you went berserk?!" McCoy's voiced echoed through the townhouse after Charlie and Jim made it back from their tracking excursion. "When did this start?! I told you to tell me if you felt homicidal!"

Jim just shrugged, his eyes hallowed. The minute they got back, Kate had let them know that she may have found where the van went, and was waiting to get in the surveillance footage before she was sure. After they convened, the crew scattered, Jim and Charlie finally pulling Bones into the kitchen to let him know what happened. "I thought you meant it as a joke."

"I did until you actually started doing it," McCoy angrily responded, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair in annoyance, his hands landing on his hips. "God damn dark ages. Brings out the worst in humanity."

"OK, you do know the dark ages was actually from the fall of the Roman Empire until the Renaissance, right?" Charlie rolled her eyes, her arms crossed as she leaned against the counter in the small kitchen next to Jim who sat in the chair near the folded table while McCoy paced around in agitation.

"Dammit I'm a doctor not an archaeologist, what does it matter?"

"Because I _am_ an archaeologist! You've got to be specific!"

"May I be of some assistance?" Spock stood in the doorway, looking odd in his grey zip up hoodie and denim jeans with his arms clasped behind his back, surveying the three with one brow raised.

"It's nothing, Spock," Jim tried to assuage.

"No, it's not nothing," Charlie snapped, sending a glare his way. "Jim went crazy today. Like Khan crazy."

Genuine surprise flickered across the Vulcan's brow. "Captain?"

Jim signed, pulling a hand down his pale face. "We were attacked after we lost the trail. Pretty sure it was the Black Sun. They tried to take me and kill Charlie. Something about her has them freaked out. When I saw what they were about to do to her, I don't know – I went ballistic. It was like someone else took control of my body and all I could do was sit back and watch. I killed them, Spock. With my bare hands. Internally I was screaming to stop, but thinking about losing Charlie, it's like I saw red."

"Has this happened before?" Spock asked, his attention jumping between the three humans.

"When we were in the base you did something similar," Bones pointed out, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Right when that solider tried to grab the Spitfire."

Jim pondered that thought, his brows low with his chin in his hand.

"You think I have something to do with it?" Charlie asked, her eyes wide.

"Don't know," McCoy shrugged. "But he goes all caveman when you're in trouble."

"There appears to be a correlation," Spock agreed, stepping into the kitchen and turning to McCoy. "Could the augmented blood be causing this, Doctor?"

"It's possible," McCoy agreed slowly. "There wasn't enough time to do a full diagnostic before this knucklehead decided to go straight for the administration stage."

"Love you too, Bones," Jim derided.

"Hey, I'm grateful that we didn't crash into the Earth like a damn meteor, but you still made me have to wing it to save your hide. Again."

Jim grinned. "At least I know you'll always have my back."

A few more expletives were mumbled his way, McCoy crossing his arms and echoing Charlie's posture.

"I am concerned that we do not know all the information in regard to Khan," Spock continued as if the last exchange hadn't happened.

"Same here," Charlie concurred. "We knew him for what? 48 hours? Tops? And his biology even less than that. Who knows what's lurking."

"It is unfortunate you are not from our universe," Spock said surprising Charlie. "Our universe Charlotte Noland may have had a stronger understanding of augmentation."

"Of all the cotton-pickin' things to say," McCoy grounded out before Charlie cut him off.

"No, he's right." She sighed, trying to release the tension building in her shoulders and neck. "We don't have augments here, so I haven't come in contact with them. Khan knew I existed because he had dealt with your universe's version of my dad, but I'm not that girl he threatened me with."

"You know, was it just me or did Khan seemed to get the most explosive when his crew was involved," Jim suggested.

"Another correlation," Spock acknowledged.

"Except he didn't go berserk the way you did, Jim," Charlie said. "He threatened us. You tore limbs off. He got pissed, but you went nuclear."

Spock nodded in agreement. "There could be evidence of a more instinctual response."

"But why now? I haven't felt like this until we got here."

"We have been placed in the most precarious position yet, Captain. We have no way of knowing how we came to be in this century, and we do not have a clear course that will return us to our appropriate timeline."

"Dammit, its more than just stress," McCoy spat.

"I did not imply just stress, Doctor." If Vulcans rolled their eyes, Spock would have done it. "I believe Cadet Noland may play a part as well. The augmented blood could have unlocked the animalistic instinct to protect one's mate. You said so yourself."

Jim stood, pulling Charlie against his side, needing her warmth and comfort since she seemed to be the one to calm him down and flare him up at the same time. Charlie could feel the tension radiate through his body. She was scared for him, for whatever could be possessing him, and although he would never say it aloud, she knew he was scared too.

"So how do I control it?" Jim was vulnerable, searching for answered from his first officer and CMO.

"If I had my kit, I might be able to run some tests," McCoy sighed. "As it is, unless I get access to a lab, and I'm not holdin' much hope for that, I can't figure out what the hell is going on."

"I agree we are at a disadvantage in this century," Spock acknowledged. "However, this does not mean we cannot protect the captain. If Cadet Noland is the catalyst for these attacks, I might suggest that the two of you not be alone when you leave the confines of our residence."

Both Jim and Charlie stared at Spock as if he had lost his head.

"Good God man!" McCoy exploded. "You can't be suggesting we have to _chaperone_ them like some damn Jane Austin novel."

"That is exactly was I propose."

"Spock, I know you're looking out for me," Jim interrupted, rubbing his hand behind his neck to relieve the headache he was beginning to get. "But Charlie and I are adults. I don't think having someone else around is going to stop whatever it is that's happening."

"But it could provide enough protection to stop your response. If Cadet Noland is not in danger, those feelings may not surface."

Charlie chewed her lip, lost in thought as they continued to argue. Jim did seem to go all Hulk-like when it seemed as if she was in danger. Granted, they were always with each other, so maybe that was the connection, but he didn't have the same response with the others. Then there was the ability for Charlie to calm him down, almost instantly. She thought of the base attack, and then earlier that day. Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing _could_ stop Jim from wreaking whatever chaos was released.

But the minute she touched him, the second their skin connected it was like a light switch was turned off. She thought it was the intensity of the moment, but Charlie knew she had seen something pass between them. Some tangible light that moved from herself to Jim. But how was that possible? What possible fantasy was she living in? There was no denying the pull she had on the Starfleet captain, however that didn't explain the phenomenon.

She thought about telling Spock and McCoy, but couldn't find the words. It was too spiritual, too illogical. These were men that held science and technology as their god, how could she explain what happened and have them believe her. Jim knew she helped him, but he didn't see the veins of gold in her hand pass into him. He felt it, but he couldn't see it. Otherwise, wouldn't he have said something?

This was something else, something new that she couldn't pinpoint. Maybe she'd talk to her sister, when their mother actually let them have more than two words between them. There was something there, something her parents were hiding. They kept mentioning a vigil, and then the Black Sun came into the picture. They pointed her out as different, as one of _them_ whoever "they" are. What could it all mean? What more could they be hiding from her?

"Listen, I get it but we'll be careful."

Charlie snapped back into the conversation, pushing her concerns for another day. Right now, they needed to get Jim under control, then she'd worry about the secrets of her parents and how they connect to the Black Sun.

"Jim, it doesn't hurt to have more people with us," Charlie finally argued, silencing all the men. "I get it. It seems dumb that we can't be alone, but this is for yours, ours, and other people's protection until we can figure out what the hell is happening. Besides, we were already attacked once. They wanted you, remember? They're going to come looking for us again. And I don't know if whatever has them freaked out about me will prevent a larger attack.

"So from now on, we go in teams of four and _no one_ goes alone. Got it?"

Three pairs of eyes blinked at her for a moment before two grins broke out.

"Got it, Captain," McCoy winked.

"Whatever you say," Jim grinned.

"It is the most logical course," Spock agreed. "We should inform the others."

"We'll let them know we were attacked but I want what's going on with me to stay between us," Jim ordered, his eyes hardening.

"What do you mean, keep it between us?" McCoy growled. "The others should know, so they can keep an eye on you too."

"I agree with Doctor McCoy," Spock added. "By keeping this from the rest of the crew, you risk another attack where they are unprepared to help you."

"There you go making me uncomfortable again, Spock."

The Vulcan shot the doctor a glare.

"I understand," Jim said. "But this is my problem, and I want this crew focused on finding that child and getting home. Let me worry about this."

"And me," Charlie interjected, shooting her own glare up at Jim. "You're not martyring yourself again, Buddy. Not this time."

"The four of us will work together," Spock said. "You will not suffer alone, Jim."

The captain frowned, but knew there was no arguing with his first officer. And even if he only admitted it to himself, knowing that they're there to help him made the icepick-like fear in his chest ease just a little. He didn't have to do it alone again.

"I had another reason for finding you, Captain," Spock added. "And you, Cadet Noland."

"Glad to see I'm chopped liver," McCoy rolled his eyes.

"Your expertise does not include Terran historical occurrences the way Cadet Noland does, Doctor," Spock replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I would not go to Commander Scott for a medical exam."

"Why you—"

"—Just what have you got for us, Spock," Jim cut in as McCoy started to puff himself up.

Spock eyed the doctor a moment before he began. "Once Dr. Noland provided the name of the Black Sun as the group that attacked us at the ceremony, I have spent much of my time investigating what little information is available on this faction, if any. I considered their apparent guerilla style techniques, and their lack of individual identifying factors. Specifically their use of cloaks and masks to hide their identities."

"What did you find?" Charlie asked.

"I believe we are dealing with an enemy who may know us better than we know ourselves."

Jim blinked, his brows drawn low. "Wait, what? Explain."

"I have found evidence of their involvement in major battles, skirmishes, and raids throughout Earth's history. Long before even the Romans where in power."

"What?" Charlie breathed, her heart dropping.

"How?" Jim asked.

"Through the historical and archaeological record. Miss Aldridge provided contacts at several prominent institutions including the British museum who've allowed me access to their archives. I have found there is direct evidence that link the Black Sun to battles such as Agincourt in the fifteenth century, the Punic Wars in the third and second century BCE, as well as conflicts in predynastic Egypt, among others. Their symbol, what I've identified as twelve radial mirrored sig runes, is found in various signets throughout several of the texts I was reading, as well as a few lesser archaeological sites throughout what is now Europe and what you call the Middle East."

"Radial sig runes? You mean like this?" Charlie withdrew the gold pendant from her pocket, forgetting about the ornament in her haste to take care of Jim. She stretched her hand out to Spock, who took the piece of jewelry and examined it thoroughly.

"That would be the correct symbol, yes. Where did you get this?"

"From our friends who attacked us," Jim said.

"The woman was wearing it," Charlie added as Spock passed it to McCoy. "It broke off during our fight."

"Interesting jewelry," McCoy said, handing the piece back to Charlie. She slipped it back into her pocket, her fist holding on to it a little longer than necessary.

"So you've seen this symbol in the texts?" Charlie asked, her brain switching gears into a place she hadn't been in in a few years.

"Affirmative," Spock answered. "Never direct quotes, but they left their mark in margins and corners. I tried to decipher their meanings but I'm afraid I cannot find the correlation at this present time. Only that they were involved in the conflict."

"What about the archaeological record? Which sites?"

"Most were in what you call Germany, specifically graffiti type pictographs. The government there during the early twentieth century seemed to use the symbol the most."

"Oh, Nazis, great," Charlie derided. "We're dealing with Nazis. Why does it always have to be Nazis? Indiana Jones should have done a better job."

"Indiana Jones?" Both Bones and Jim asked at the same time.

"I'll have Kate put on Raider of the Lost Arc tonight. Anyway, continue, Commander."

Spock eyed the humans curiously, anticipating more interruptions before he added, "I found evidence of their symbol and what appeared to be news of their exploits carved into the walls in many religious establishments in Russia, Iran, and Afghanistan. There were several hieroglyphs in Egypt as well, especially in some temples of their more bloodied rulers."

"So they were soldiers?" Jim questioned.

"Negative, Captain," Spock countered. "They don't seem to be involved with the conflict directly. I would describe it more as instigating the action rather than taking part."

"Covert ops rather than ground troops," Charlie considered. "That makes sense, actually. My mother mentioned something about them wanting to create chaos. If their main goal is stealth, they wouldn't be soldiers in the middle of the battle. Best way to do that would be in the shadows."

"Maybe that's why they had that eclipse tattoo?" Jim turned to Charlie. "Remember? They had them on their hands."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. And their masks, right here on their forehead." She pointed to her own.

"Great, we know their history, but what good will that do us?" McCoy growled.

Spock just slightly narrowed his eyes, but Charlie didn't hold back. "Everything. If we know how they operate, what their goals are based off of their prior actions we can predict what they're going to do next."

"The only question left unanswered is why they want the captain?" Spock added.

No one answered, all lost in thought.

"I don't know," Charlie finally said, glancing up to Jim as she squeezed his hand. "I don't know why they want you, and why they want me dead."

Jim wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling to tuck her under his chin as he caught both his CMO and First Officer. "I don't know either, but we'll figure it out."

* * *

The rest of the house was asleep in the floors above, the night silence except for the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock. The only one awake was Spock, the soft blue glow of the iPad in his hand the only light in the dark room. Their hostess had provided the science officer with as much technology as the 21st century could offer the Vulcan. He was grateful for her help, and the contacts she provided at several of the museums in London had proven incredibly useful. Already Spock had learned enough about the Black Sun, that if they encounter them again, he felt confident he could discover their true intentions toward his captain and Cadet Noland.

It was their reaction to her that mystified Spock the most. What about her caused the Black Sun to want her death? After Jim and McCoy left the kitchen, Charlie had stopped Spock, filling him in on the rest of the fight and their interactions, knowing that Spock could see past the emotion. Spock saw the fear shine clear as she described what was said, how they attacked, and Kirk's reaction at the end. Although he tried to add comfort, something that humans reacted well too, it did little to quiet the emotions swirling under the surface. They both agreed, the faster they could get back to the 23rd century, the safer they would be.

An email pinged, Spock's eyes instinctually drawn down to the title. He had made contact with a scientist in the United States a few weeks ago; the Director of the Hayden Planetarium at the Rose Center for Earth and Space in New York City. The scientist was well known for this era, his theories and calculations while rudimentary had the basis for growth in astrophysics. Spock reached out using an alias, pretending to be a graduate student with an interest in temporal theories and anomalies. It took a few back and forth conversations before the man believed Spock to be who he said, agreeing to provide some insight into the current conversation surrounding the concepts.

Like the scientists of Copernicus's time, most of it was laughed at, seen as folly and science fiction. However, the Director agreed that if he came across any legitimate papers on the subject he would send them Spock's way. Well now, apparently he had.

Spock opened the attachment, a recently published paper on temporal anomalies leading to alternative universes. Spock frowned, surprised that the title and preceding abstract, describing in detail how one traveling through time does not travel within their own universe, but through to different ones. That temporal anomalies were not gateways to the past, but bridges to dimensions.

Spock spent the rest of the night reading the article, noting the advanced calculations used, and the eerily familiar writing style. By the time the sun began to rise, the house stirring in activity, Spock noticed a symbol that had he been fully human, would have made his blood run cold.

The triangles were arranged like an earth angel spreading its wings with the hieroglyphs of a Vulcan age long past embedded in each. To the 21st century human eye, they just looked like another unlearned language of a society dead for centuries – but Spock knew what they were, and who they belonged to.

Spock quickly looked up the pseudonym of the author for the paper, knowing he wasn't using his real name. The man in question had left a difficult trail to follow if someone wanted to come looking, but through patience, diligence, and a little bit of cunning, Spock was able to hack the system of the university he used as a cover to track the address of the person.

Spock was surprised to note the man was on the very same island, although in the northern part of the nation. Using what Cadet Noland called the 'google maps' program, Spock isolated the location of the coordinates, and the tiny cottage on the western loch shore. Not his usual accommodation, but if he was trying to hide in plain sight, as Spock thought, it was the perfect cover. But how did he get there? And how can Spock convince the crew to travel to the northern part of the country? It was illogical, even to his own ears. But the Captain and Cadet Noland had been helping Spock understand the human side of him. With his mother dead, Cadet Noland had taken upon herself to be the human familiar connection, to teach him how to embrace the more illogical, emotional sides exactly as his mother had done.

The crew began making their way down the stairs, their hair disheveled with sleep still in their bleary eyes. Coffee had already been set the night before, and while Spock wasn't a fan of the substance, it offered at least a pleasing aroma in the morning.

The women took longer in the morning than their male counterparts. Spock was fascinated by their routines, Uhura always patiently explaining the human female propensity toward appearances. Although to him, the extra energy to make oneself up besides a basic cleanliness was an unreasoned pursuit, but when Spock asked the captain, he just shrugged.

"Hey, I love Charlie with or without makeup or her hair done, but it makes her feel good, so it's whatever. Besides, I like showing her off sometimes."

A basic human reaction, but after seeing the displays of illogical beauty standards around London, and through their advertisements on the television, Spock concluded it must be inherent in their DNA, something he was quite happy his Vulcan side negated.

While the sun inched its way up the walls, illuminating the room from the bluish tint of predawn to the golden luminescence of mid-morning, Spock struggled with how to relate his findings to the rest of the crew. Perhaps he could go up alone, confront the person singularly instead of as a group.

"I got it!" a voice shouted from above, the house shaking as several pairs of feet came flying down the stairs.

Sulu, Kirk, and McCoy came out of the kitchen while Scott flew around the corner, trying to appear innocent although there was the definite clank of screws hitting the floor around his feet.

Kate was breathless, her red hair wild around her head and still in pajamas while Otto jumped and barked around her feet, thinking it was a game.

"Otto, no! Down!" She pushed the dog away, his tongue hanging out in jubilee. Jim was able to reach down and wrestle the animal away while Kate ran into the sitting room, turning on the TV and booting up her computer.

"What's going on?" Uhura asked from the stairway, one brow rose in alarm at the woman's frantic movements while the officer regarded the rest of her crew.

"Why does everyone in this century feel the need to be shoutin' all the bloody time," Scotty grumbled, trying to discreetly push the screws into the corner.

"Because we have a flare of the dramatic," Charlie answered, following Uhura down the stairs. "You ok, Kate?"

Kate spun around, taking in the surprised and startled glances directed her way. "Oh, Good Morning, everyone."

Charlie had to bite her cheek to stop from laughing at the bewildered faces peering back the Brit. Normally Kate was so well mannered, meticulous in her dress and look. To view her so tousled was a sight to see for the crew.

Kate cleared her throat, her cheeks changing to the same color as her hair. "Yes well, I suppose I was a bit overzealous this morning. But I have good news to share."

"Which is?" Charlie smiled, leaning against the large door frame of the room.

"I finally received some of the surveillance I requested." Kate's face may have been red in embarrassment, but her she still bounced on her toes. "The van was seen passing a gas station on the M74 going north."

Spock rose from his position on the couch, observing the map with intensity.

"Ok, where's that?" asked Sulu as Scotty perked up, stepping up next to the commander.

"Hang on, I know where that is," he pointed. "That's going toward Glasgow, in Scotland," he said his eyes shining. "Those devils are in my city?"

"Didn't you grow up in Aberdeen?" Charlies questioned.

"Aye, what of it? Still me country I'll have you know."

"Hey, just checking," Charlie surrendered, her hands raised toward the ceiling before she crossed them. "Ok so the van's in Scotland. Do we know where?"

"Let me check." Kate's fingers flew across the keyboard, different pictures and images springing up before they were just as unceremoniously dismissed. "Damn. No, that's the only evidence I got."

"Well I don't think we should be going up there on one photo," Uhura reasoned.

"Actually—"

"Now may be the best—"

Both Spock and Kirk began speaking at the same time, both pausing mid-sentence.

"Sorry, Spock, you first."

"No, Captain, you may proceed."

"I insist."

Spock eyed the captain dubiously, but tucking his arms behind his back and turning to monitor the group.

"We have another reason to journey north. I have found evidence that someone from our continuum may be hiding out in that same trajectory. How they came to be here, I would very much like to learn."

"Wait someone from our time?" Scotty exclaimed. "How did the bugger get here?"

"That is precisely what I want to know," Spock patiently reiterated.

"If we can find them, maybe they can tell us how to get home," Sulu reasoned. "How did you find them, Commander?"

"I've been researching theories around temporal anomalies to see if there is a correlation between the anomaly that brought us to this continuum. Granted, this time does not possess the same resources, however, I was able to extrapolate a few theories by combining our previous knowledge with their current discoveries. In my research, I was provided with a recently published paper detailing the theoretical existence of different universes accessed through temporal travel. I recognized the writing style, their advanced use of equations not yet discovered, among other evidences indicated they were not from this century but from another. From ours."

"Who is it, Spock?" Jim questioned. "Do you know him?"

Spock paused a moment, dipping his head subtly as he came to a decision. Glancing back to the crew he said, "I believe he is my brother."


End file.
